


Dornish Dragons

by Araloth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-06-02 02:12:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 34,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6546277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Araloth/pseuds/Araloth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where Rhaegar died but the royal forces won the war, Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne becomes Lord Protector of the Seven Kingdoms.This changes everything, and slowly but surely Oberyn brings Dornish values and customs to the rest of the Seven Kingdoms...</p><p>(or the fiction that sprang from me trying to justify how Oberyn could sleep with half the heirs in the Seven Kingdoms)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Nest of Vipers

**Author's Note:**

> So this was originally supposed to just be a brief intorduction before the main story but the more I worked on it the more scenes I kept wanting to add. I'll add more characters and relationships to the tags as I go but for now I want to keep some of it a surprise. Hope you guys enjoy.

            It had been days since the battle, but the city was still burning. Oberyn grimaced as he slowly made his way through the Red Keep. Smoke was rising from at least half a dozen places, and bodies littered the streets; carrion, birds and men alike picking them over. The loyalist forces had arrived in time to regain control of King’s Landing, but it had come at a great cost. Tywin Lannister and his men had slain hundreds, amongst them Oberyn’s own sister, Princess Elia, and her young daughter Princess Rhaenys.

The one bright spot in the horror of the last few days, had been the news of Aegon’s survival. The Master of Whispers, Varys, had spirited the boy away before the fighting broke out, fearing, or so he claimed, that the worst might happen. Having met the eunuch, Oberyn’s trust in him was shaky at best, when he got word that Varys had saved the prince, Oberyn tempered his optimism. After all one infant could be made to look like another easily enough, and the Spider was always spinning plots. But even from beyond the grave, Elia was helping him. When Oberyn last visited the capitol his sister had proudly introduced him to his nephew, weary as she was from the birthing. She had smiled and shown Oberyn a small circle of freckles on little Aegon’s left ankle. “You see?” Elia had whispered “A Martell sun. He may look like his father but he’s one of us too.”

Oberyn’s joy at finding that same little circle on the infant Varys had saved brought him to tears. His nephew was alive. Oberyn had immediately moved him to one of the most secure rooms in the palace and placed no less then fifty men outside the door. The men, and the wet nurse now tending to the prince, had traveled with Oberyn all the way from Dorne. They would protect the boy with their lives.

But even with the prince safe there had been a power vacuum. The usurper Robert Baratheon had slain Prince Rheagar on the Trident, in spite of his eventual defeat there. Rheagar’s last minute promise of a royal marriage had secured the Frey troops in time to beat back the rebels. Now though, with the death of Princess Rhaenys, that fragile alliance was in question. Even worse, rebel forces on Dragonstone had killed Queen Rhaella and Prince Viserys, though the Queen’s newborn daughter Daenerys had been saved. The seven kingdoms had no king, and the only dragons left in the world were babes in the cradle.

            As Prince Aegon’s oldest uncle, Oberyn’s brother Doran, had been named Lord Protector of the Realm, in a hastily convened council of loyalists. But Doran’s health and his duties as Crown Prince of Dorne had made fulfilling that role rather difficult. Instead, he’d passed the title on to Oberyn. Which was why Oberyn was here now, in a city he despised, forced to work with some of the least trust worthy people in Westeros.

The doors to the small council room banged open. Today only of the two of the seats were occupied. Varys glided out of his chair, his billowing lilac robes making no sound at all as he stood. He bowed his head respectfully, his eyes never leaving Oberyn’s.

“Lord Protector.”

Oberyn nodded. “Lord Varys.” In truth, Oberyn knew as well as anyone the eunuch was no lord, but if he wanted any chance at succeeding in this job Oberyn would have to play the game.

As Oberyn took his seat, the other man in the room, Grand Maester Pycelle, made a move as if to stand, but to Oberyn’s trained eyes the move was a clear feint. His years at the Citadel, the same institution which had produced the Grand Maester, had made him a shrewd observer. Although Pycelle moved with a certain stiffness, his quick hands belayed the act, adjusting his maester’s chain as he sat back down so it bumped into the table, the sound reverberating through the wood. The man wanted to call Oberyn’s attention to the many links in the chain, but Oberyn suspected he would regret being Oberyn’s focus once the prince had said his piece.

“The small council seems to be smaller than I remember.” Oberyn said, his eyes searching the men in front of him for any clues. “Where have your fellow lords run off too?”

“Sadly my lord I believe we are the council.” Varys purred. “The late king’s actions have somewhat thinned our ranks. We have no Hand of the King, and several other lords felt their positions here were…shall we say …somewhat complicated by recent events.”

Oberyn scowled. “You mean they’ve fled the city.”

“Now m-my lord…” Pycelle stammered, “you mustn’t blame them for-“

“What of the King’s Guard?”

Varys smiled, his face a mask of sympathy. “Most are either missing or dead I’m afraid. Jonothor Darry perished at the Trident along with your own noble uncle Ser Lewyn. We have reports, however that Ser Barristain Semly still lives. And the Lannister boy is being held in the black cells awaiting your orders.”

Oberyn had not been overly close to his uncle Lewyn, but his death still pained him nonetheless. More Martell blood shed in this senseless rebellion. “And the others? What of the White Bull and the Sword of the Morning?”

“They along with Ser Whent were given some special task by Prince Rheagar prior to the Battle of the Trident. I’m afraid even my little birds can’t locate them.”

“My Lord…” Pycelle coughed “What do you plan on doing with Ser Jamie?”

_Showing your colors so soon rat?_ Oberyn knew it would only be a matter of time before Pycelle brought up Jamie Lannister. _How much is his father paying you I wonder to try and secure his son’s release?_ It was no secret that Tywin favored the boy. _The perfect golden son from the golden family._ When his father’s forces had stormed the city Ser Jaime had wasted no time in dispatching King Areys. His father would have been proud. Only Tywin’s forces had lost. Loyalists from Highgarden, Dragonstone, and Drone, and even some from the Trident had swarmed to the capitol when they heard it was burning. Lord Tywin had waited and taken no side in the rebellion until he learned of Rheagar’s death. That apparently, had been enough to push him into action. But seeing their prince fall had rallied the forces on the Trident not broken them. Their rage and lose had lead them to overwhelm the rebel forces, capturing the usurper Robert Baratheon, as well as the other ring leaders, placing Lord Tywin on the losing side of the war, exactly where he hadn’t wanted to be. And now thanks to his own actions and those of his father, Jamie Lannister’s life was in Oberyn’s hands.

            “I plan for the Kingslayer to stand trial.” Oberyn said, making sure to use the name he heard circulating around the city for the Lannister boy. Oberyn noted the disdain that flashed quickly across Pycelle’s face. _You don’t like that name do you?_ He paused a moment before continuing. “Although seeing as the boys already confessed to killing his king with his own blade I don’t see it going well for him. I suspect we’ll be executing him before long.”

            Pycelle paled noticeably. “Prince Oberyn-he is still so young. Surely mercy is the better course. And Lord Tywin would be-“

            “I’m sure Lord Tywin will be most bereaved. But he lost all rights to my mercy when his men murdered my sister and her child.” Oberyn growled. “As it is, I plan to have Tywin Lannister himself stand trial for his crimes.”

            “You mean to bring a high lord up on charges?” Pycelle gasped “Think of the precedent you’ll be setting-“

            “I think our Lord Protector is well aware of the message it sends.” Varys chuckled. “And what of the other rebels? Robert Baratheon and his followers. Or do you plan on executing every high lord in Westeros?”

            “They’ll receive fair trials for their crimes. What punishments they may receive will come later.”

            “And who will judge these trials Prince Oberyn? You will hardly be seen as impartial…” Varys cooed.

            “I will serve as one of the judges yes. The other two I leave up to you.”

            Varys nodded. “Lord Tyrell will no doubt want to play a part in this. At the moment the Tyrells are the Crown’s strongest ally. You can’t afford to alienate him.”

            “Very well.” Oberyn sighed. Mace Tyrell had always struck him as a bit of a windbag, puffing himself up and taking offense at the slightest hint against his family. But over that incident with his horse Oberyn had developed something of a friendship with Willas Tyrell. And the other Tyrell’s hated the Red Viper enough for that already. Oberyn couldn’t afford to offend them any further. “Mace Tyrell may serve as one of the judges.”

            “Then your Grace the final judge must be someone more neutral.” Pycelle demanded, a slight panic catching in his voice. “Someone without a vested interest in the outcome of the trial.”

            Oberyn scowled at him. He would have to deal with Pycelle soon enough. “And who might that be Grand Maester? What family hasn’t lost someone in this war?”

            “The High Septon then perhaps.” Pycelle countered “The Faith will lend legitimacy to your cause. No southern Lord would dare question the judgment of the Faith of the Seven.”

            Oberyn was quiet for a moment. As much as he hated him, the man had a point. The High Septon would be above most reproach. And even if Pycelle though he could swing the High Septon’s vote, the Grand Maester would still need a second judge to vote to acquit the Lannisters. Something Oberyn found highly unlikely. “Agreed then…Maester Pycelle please send out the necessary ravens as soon as possible.”

            “Of course your Grace.”

            Oberyn had a feeling another raven would soon be making its way to Lord Tywin. _Let Pycelle write to the Rock_ he though _this time there’s nothing for the great Tywin Lannister to do._ He mind flashed to Elia and Rhaenys and he suppressed a shudder. Oberyn had the sudden urge to see his nephew. To reassure himself once more that he was truly safe. Oberyn stood, pushing the heavy wooden chair across the floor with a squeak.

            “Ensure all the preparations are under way.” Oberyn began, making his way to the door as quickly as he could. “I want these trials to begin as soon as possible.”

            “Of course your Grace.” Varys called after him. “I’ll begin gathering the prisoners…”

 

***

Oberyn made his way to the Prince’s chambers in silence. Several guards and common folk attempted to greet him along the way but he brushed them off. The garrison outside the prince’s door relaxed noticeable when they recognized him.

“Is the nurse still inside?”

“She is your Grace.” The guard captain answered quickly. “Said the little prince was hungry.”

Oberyn nodded and pulled the door open. The suite he’d chosen for the prince was nice enough, certainly not the fanciest room in the Red Keep, but still impressive. More importantly it was safe. The room was at the very heart of Maegor’s Holdfast; and even if someone did manage to make it this far into the castle, the guards outside would see to them. Oberyn stepped through a side door and saw the nurse sitting in a chair by the crib, gently rocking Aegon in her arms. Oberyn paused a moment and just watched them, not wanting to disturb the peaceful scene.

“ How is he?” He finally asked

The nurse started for a moment, pulled from some daydream by the sound of Oberyn’s voice. Then she smiled. “He’s well your Grace. You’d never guess what he’s been through these past few days…” The girl stood slowly and handed Aegon to his uncle. “I was just getting ready to leave. You take him for awhile…”

Oberyn slid down into the chair careful not to wake the sleeping prince. He reached out with his finger and brushed a strand of silver blonde hair off his forehead. The nurse smiled.

“I’ll have someone send up some food for you your grace.”

“Thank you.” Oberyn whispered, his eyes never leaving Aegon. The boy looked so peaceful. Sitting there alone with his nephew, the setting sun flickering in though the small window, for the first time in a long time, Oberyn felt like everything might actually be okay.

 

***

The next few weeks were chaos. What remained of the royal forces had been concentrated in the capitol for security, both of King’s Landings’ inhabitants and of the now few hundred prisoners in the castle. The last of the prisoners had arrived only yesterday, amongst them Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon. Jon Arryn had been brought in the week before. Although Oberyn had wanted nothing more then to throw the three into the depths of the black cells, custom dictated other wise. As Lords of the Seven Kingdoms they were kept higher in the tower, in relative comfort. A luxury, Oberyn knew that at least the Baratheon brute would never have extended had the situations been reversed. The Lannister’s were also in the city, although their imprisonment was more tenuous. So long as Oberyn held his son Jamie, Tywin would play along with the crown’s order to appear at the trial, but Tywin Lannister still had the largest army in the Seven Kingdoms. Even with all the support from Dorne and the Tyrells, the royal forces were stretched thin. And Lord Tywin knew it. He had arrived at the capitol with no fewer than two hundred men as escort. Oberyn had been able to arrange for the majority of the troops to stay outside the city gates, but the show of force was clear, Tywin wanted his son back and didn’t care how he got him.

“Your Grace you should rest.”

Oberyn sighed and looked up from the reports he was reading. The extra royal soldiers in the city made it safer, but their presence was presenting a whole host of other problems.

“Would you really think it’d be that hard for Dornishmen and men of the Reach to get along?”

The young boy looked nervous. Oberyn guessed he couldn’t have been more then eight years old. He smiled. “Perhaps it’s better you don’t answer that.” He sighed. “You’re an Allyrion right?” The boy had been Doran’s idea. Oberyn was technically a knight, and squiring the heir of one Dorne’s great houses to him was a wonderful reward for their support through a very ugly war. What’s more, while knights were not that numerous in Dorne, Doran thought observing the typical customs of the Seven Kingdoms, could only help add legitimacy to Oberyn’s new position.

The boy nodded, his bright blue eyes twinkling nervously in the candlelight. The sun had set several hours ago now, but with the trials so soon Oberyn found his work never seemed to stop.

“Daemon your Grace…But I’m not-I’m only a Sand.”

Oberyn smiled again. “But by Dornish law you are your father’s heir are you not?”

“Yes your Grace.” Daemon said slowly, as if searching for some hidden trap.

“Then someday it will not matter if you were born a Sand. You will still be Lord of Godsgrace.”

Daemon relaxed slightly. “True your Grace. But we’re not in Dorne now. “

Now Oberyn was grinning. The boy was sharp. A tad skittish still perhaps, but it looked like he had a good head on his shoulders. “I think the rest of the kingdom could stand to learn something from Dornish law don’t you?

That got the boy to smile. “Yes your Grace.”

Oberyn laughed. “Your Grace…I find I’m still getting used to that title…”

A soft knock at the door broke his train of thought. Oberyn sat up wearily.

“Who is it now?”

The door creaked open and Lord Varys glided into the room, his slippered feet hardly making any noise on the rough floor. He bowed slowly, his eyes wandering quickly over every inch of the room.

“I’m sorry to disturb you so late Lord Protector.”

“And yet here you are eunuch.” Oberyn growled.

Varys smiled knowingly. “A matter had arisen that I believed you would want to be made aware of immediately. Lord Commander Hightower and the other errant members of the King’s Guard have been found.”

Oberyn stood up quickly. “Where are they?”

“Here in the city Lord Protector. It seems they slipped in with a group of merchants from the south. They arrived less than an hour ago.”

Oberyn frowned. “Why would knights of the King’s Guard slip into the city under cover of darkness? You’re sure of this information?”

“Of course your Grace. They’re waiting in the throne room as we speak. They demanded to speak with you immediately.” Varys cooed.

Oberyn was at the door before the Spider had finished speaking. “Daemon see to the candles and then join me in the throne room.”

Varys feinted a cough. “Ehm. That might not be the wisest idea your Grace. It would seem this is matter of some importance. Until everything can be sorted out perhaps it’s best if the Lord Commander and his men speak to you alone.”

Glowering, Oberyn had to admit Varys had a point. Oberyn trusted the boy to be sure, but until he knew what was so important for the King’s Guard to go to such lengths it might be best to keep Daemon out of it. There was no telling who might try to extort information out of him if they thought he had it. “Very well. Wait here Daemon. I’ll be back before long.”

Oberyn saw the boy’s face fall, and not for the first time since coming to the capitol cursed the political game played here. He turned to Varys. “Did anyone else see them come in?” He asked sternly.

“The Lord Commander wisely came to me. He knows I have certain…resources…with which to keep one hidden.”

Of that Oberyn was certain. If any man alive knew the secrets the Red Keep held it was Lord Varys. Oberyn nodded. “Very well. Ensure it stays that way until I say otherwise.”

Varys bowed low as Oberyn swept out of the room. “Of course Lord Protector…”

 

***

It was a short walk to the throne room. Oberyn moved in near total darkness. The majority of the castle was asleep by now but here and there he passed a servant. He made his way to the King’s Door at the back of the throne room and peaked inside. Two freshly lit torches were burning near the throne, but the rest of the room was in darkness. The torchlight flickered, bathing the three men in red and oranges. If Lord Varys had not instated the men were the missing members of the King’s Guard Oberyn would not have recognized them. They had abandoned the typical white cloaks in favor plain brown traveling cloaks, the hoods up, though from their movement Oberyn was certain they wore armor underneath. Behind them, half hidden in the shadows was a fourth figure, a woman if he was not mistaken. _Interesting…_

Oberyn stepped inside and let the door slam shut, drawing the attention of the three men instantly. He would have sworn the shortest of the three’s hand hovered over his sword a moment before they could make Oberyn out in the dim light.

“Lord Protector.” Gerald Hightower, Lord Commander of the King’s Guard, bowed, removing his hood as he knelt. The other two knights quickly followed suit. Sers Whent and Dayne. Despite their show of deference, Oberyn could see concern, and even a little defiance in their eyes.

“Rise Ser Hightower. There are no need for such formalities at so late an hour.”

“As you say your Grace.” Ser Hightower rose from the floor, his impressive bulk leaving no question of how he’d earned the nickname the White Bull.

Looking at three impressive knights before him, Oberyn found himself overcome by a sudden rage. “So tell me Lord Commander where were you when King’s Landing was attacked and my sister and her child were murdered? When one of your own slew the king he was sworn to protect? Where were you when Prince Rhaegar died on the Trident? During the attack on Dragonstone?” Oberyn fought to keep his voice even, his fury flowing into his words like molten steel. “ _Where were you?”_

The knights were silent a moment. Arthur Dayne exchanged a significant look with Hightower. They seemed unsurprised. Still their momentary silence and humiliated demeanor gave some part of Oberyn great pleasure. Finally Hightower spoke.

“The Kingsguard is sworn to protect the royal family as you well know your Grace… part of that duty requires following their orders…even when we’d rather fight by their side.”

“Prince Rheagar gave you some secret mission.” Oberyn knew the knights had disappeared around the same time as the Prince. When they didn’t return with him to the Trident he had wondered. “I assume the fourth member of your party figures into that explanation somehow?

Arthur Dayne glanced back at the women still hiding in the shadows. “She does your Grace.”

“I’m sure your Grace is familiar with the events of the tourney at Harrenhall…” Hightower began

_Harrenhall._ That dreaded place. Oberyn had almost forgotten. _The Prince had left with her._ The whole kingdom had been shocked when Prince Rheagar absconded with Lyanna Stark. Oberyn had tried talking to Elia about it once, but she’d only smiled sadly and said that she loved her husband. No matter what Oberyn or any else one said that was all she’d ever say about it. “I assume I have the pleasure of meeting the Lady Lyanna then?” Oberyn said bitterly.

The knights’ reactions were instant. Oberyn knew the emotion all to well. _Grief_.

“Lyan-Lady Lyanna is dead.” Lord Hightower began. He paused and looked at Oberyn with an almost challengingly. “She died bringing the little Prince into the world.”

_That_ Oberyn had not been expecting. _Another royal heir. But then-_ “Prince you said? Then he is true borne?”

Now the knights looked truly nervous. “Prince Rheagar and the Lady Lyanna…did wed. In the northern custom on the isle of the God’s Eye.” Hightower’s voice was even keeled, but Oberyn could sense the protective threat hidden in it.

“With we three as witnesses.” Arthur Dayne added.

Oberyn studied them carefully. “Ser Whent you’ve been quiet. Might I ask why?

Ser Whent straightened up, looking Oberyn directly in the eye. “I believe my brothers think you may have some ill will towards the child. But I assure you our duty is to both Princes. And Princess Daenerys. We will not tolerate any interference with that duty.”

Oberyn sighed. As much as part of him wanted to curse Prince Rheagar for taking a second wife, some part of him understood. Elia had been very sick after Aegon’s birth and the maesters were unsure if she could conceive again. In a time as tenuous as this having more royal heirs made political sense. And whatever love Rheagar might have born the Stark girl did not have to diminish his feelings for Elia and their children.

“I assure you all I mean the child no harm. Though not of my blood he is the brother of mine own dear nephew. I will protect the child’s life as I protect his.”

The three relaxed visibly. Dayne motioned for the woman to step forward into the light. The reason for her hiding became abundantly clear. Asleep in her arms was a small infant. “Your Grace may I present Prince Jon Targaryen.” He said with a small sad smile. “The woman is a wet nurse from mine own home of Starfall.”

“Wylla your Grace” the girl said with a bow.

Oberyn smiled and descended the steps down to the four, no five. The young prince looked very much like his mothers family. Oberyn had never met Lyanna but he recognized the dark hair and northern features. The boy looked peaceful asleep like this, with no idea the ordeals he’d already been thought. _No child so young should be an orphan._

“I feel I’ve been somewhat remise. I apologize for my manner, as you can no doubt understand King’s Landing had been through a lot. Ser Dayne…I was sorry to hear of your own sister’s passing.”

Arthur Dayne nodded sadly. “Thank you your Grace. She will be sorely missed.”

Whent sighed. “There’s been entirely too much death in this Gods forsaken war.”    

“Speaking of your Grace…”The White Bulls face darkened. “What has been done with the traitor Jamie Lannister?”

 

***

There was a cool breeze in the air tonight. As Oberyn and the knights of the King’s Guard made their way to the dungeons he watched them observe the city. The fires were long since out, and the streets had all been cleared, but death still seemed to hang over the city like a dark cloud. The physical damage to the city was slowly being repaired, but it would be a long time before the residents themselves fully recovered. They stopped when they reached the door to the dungeons.

“Will you be joining us my Lord?” Ser Hightower grunted

Oberyn sighed. “I don’t think I have it in me to see the Kingslayer tonight.“

“He is on the lowest level?” Arthur Dayne asked.

“Rotting in the black cells yes. You can be sure I’ve gotten an earful from Lord Tywin about it.”

The knights’ expressions darkened at the mention of Tywin Lannister. Oberyn watched them descend the stairs in silence, the torchlight vanishing as they turned the corner. Oberyn turned back to city before him. He knew a part of him would always hate this place, unable to exorcise it of Elia’s last moments, but being here the past few weeks he had developed a begrudging respect for the people of King’s Landing. These were his nephew’s most loyal subjects, many losing family members of their own in their attempts to defend the city.

_Elia…_

Oberyn turned back to cells. _This is something I must do_. He thought bitterly. Oberyn climbed to the second level of the jail. Torches lined the walls here, flickering in the breeze as he walked past. Most of the cells on this level were empty, and Oberyn had made sure to separate the few prisoners who were being housed here. He rounded a corner and stopped when he found the door he wanted. The room inside was dark. The man appeared to be sleeping. Even so Oberyn rapped on the door.

“Lord Stark?”

The man stirred

“Prince Oberyn?”

Eddard Stark slowly rose from the bed and walked to the cells heavy door rubbing sleep from his eyes. “What brings you here at this time of night?”

Oberyn steeled himself. “I have news of your sister.”

Lord Stark’s eyes flashed alert in an instant. “Lyanna? Have you found her? Is she alright?”

“I’m afraid to say she has died…”

Eddard Stark fell silent, sliding down the wall of his cell to rest on the cold stone floor. When he finally met Oberyn’s gaze again there were no tears in his eyes, just a sad resignation which Oberyn found far more disconcerting.

“How?” He finally asked.

“Your sister fell in love with the prince. They…they married in secret…and she passed bringing her son into the world.” Oberyn smiled sympathetically. “The boy lives. You have a nephew Lord Stark.”

Now the tears did begin to flow. “What is the boys name?” Eddard asked.

“Prince Jon Targaryen, the first of his name. He has the Stark look to him.”

That seemed to bring the man some solace, a small smile cracking through the northern lords typical icy demeanor. “Thank you Prince Oberyn. For telling me.”

Oberyn paused weighing his word carefully. “Perhaps when this is all over-the trial I mean-I can arrange for you to see him.”

“I’d like that very much. “

Oberyn lingered a moment longer. He searched for some words to ease the pain he knew Eddard Stark must be in, some insight Oberyn had gained in his own grief, and found none. More than anything he knew the man must just crave solitude. He had lost a father, a brother and now a sister in this tedious war, and regardless of the man’s own role in that conflict Oberyn couldn’t help but pity him.

“I knew you know…” Eddard trailed off “on some level I always knew why she’d gone with him. She was always so rebellious, so full of life. I knew she would never have been happy with Robert…He loved her from the moment he laid eyes on her. But he loved the idea of her, not the woman she was. Lyanna would sooner use a sword then a knitting needle. And she knew Robert’s type. I love the man like a brother…but Lyanna and I both knew he could never be faithful to one woman…”

Oberyn had never met Lord Stark’s sister, but hearing the man speak of her he thought he’d have liked her very much. “I understand. We have many such women in Dorne. There we are all freer, to choose and live as we see fit…”He sighed. “I will never understand the chains the rest of Westeros builds around themselves…”

“Nymeria was always a heroine of Lyanna’s as a child. She might have been very happy in Dorne.”

Oberyn smiled sadly. “She was in Dorne. At least for a little while. It seems the late Prince found an old tower there for the two of them.”

The two men were silent for some time after that. Finally Eddard spoke.

“I was sorry to hear of Princess Elia and her daughter…That-that is inexcusable.”

“Tywin Lannister will pay for his crimes.”

“As must I Prince Oberyn?”

Oberyn paused and gazed at the man for a good while. Finally he spoke. “You should get some rest Lord Stark. The first round of hearings will begin early tomorrow.”

The northern inclined his head, not a true bow but a show of respect nonetheless, and slipped further back into the cell. Oberyn turned to leave, his mind wandering wildly as he walked. He was almost at the tower’s stairs when he heard it.

“Martell!”

The gruff shout pulled Oberyn to attention. Robert Baratheon was glaring at him from behind the bars of his cell.

“Why were you talking to Ned? What did you tell him?” the man growled.

“What I choose to discuss with Lord Stark is of no concern to you.” Oberyn seethed.

“Lyanna was to be my bride. Anything you tell him you tell me! What did that devil do to her?”

Oberyn saw red. This was the man most responsible for all this bloodshed, for Elia and Rhaenys, and he dared speak to him this way? “She was not-nor would she ever have been your bride. Lady Lyanna married Prince Rheagar.”

“Lies!” Robert bellowed. “That Targaryen bastard kidnapped her! How can you stand there and tell me-“

“The ceremony was witnessed by three knights of the King’s Guard. Performed, as I understand it, by a septon in front of the godswood on the Isle of Faces.”

That shut the man up quickly. Robert Baratheon’s face was flushed red with anger. “We were betrothed.”

“But it seems she never loved you.” Oberyn said venomously. “All that killing you did- for a girl who never wanted you…”

Robert collapsed on the floor his face a mask of pain and shock. Seeing him like this Oberyn almost held back. _He deserves it. For all the suffering he’s caused so many others._ Oberyn twisted the knife.

“We’ve had word from Storm’s End as well.”

Robert looked up his pale with concern.

“Lord Tyrell has taken the castle. It seems you brother Stannis starved his men to the point of munity rather than yield. The mad fool became a meal for some of his own soldiers.”

Robert’s voice was quieter now, almost afraid. “…And Renly?”

“Your youngest brother yet lives. The maester was able to keep him safe when the fighting broke out.” Oberyn said.

Robert Baratheon glared at Oberyn furiously. “I imagine you must be pleased. The traitor’s house all but destroyed. Is that why you came here? To gloat?”

“You called me here.” Oberyn answered, his voice softening in spite of his feelings for the man. “And regardless of what I feel for you and your late brother I would have mourned the loss of one Westeros’ great houses.

Looking at him Robert now, some of the defiant warrior had crumpled away, leaving in its place a brother. “…Thank him for me will you? For saving Renly.”

“I will ensure the maester is told.”

Robert nodded stiffly. “I wish to be left alone then.” He grumbled.

Oberyn nodded, feeling a small pang of guilt for the manner in which he’d broken the news. He made his way down the stairs in silence. When he arrived back outside he found none of the Kingsguard waiting for him. _They must still be down with the Kingslayer._ He thought.

He looked up to the starry sky deep in thought. The trials would begin early tomorrow, and he should really take his own advice and rest. But his conversation with Robert Baratheon weighted on his mind. _What will become of the boy?_ If Oberyn remembered correctly the young Lord Renly couldn’t be more then seven. _Far too young to leave on his own._ If the boy stayed in Storm’s End there was no telling what ideas would be poured into his head. No something else must be done. _But what?_ Oberyn wondered silently. The stars gave no answer.

 

***

The throne room could be stuffy even at the best of times, but with so many people crammed into the hall to observe the days proceedings it was even worse. Prince Oberyn made his way up to the dais and assumed the center of the three chairs arranged there, placing himself strategically in front of the Iron Throne. The High Septon was already seated on Oberyn’s right, the many crystals he wore casting rainbow light over his white robes and the floor around him. Oberyn did not know the man well, but he seemed competent enough. The same could not be said of the third judge.

Mace Tyrell had yet to arrive, but Oberyn had no doubt he’d make some grand entrance. The man had become an important ally for Oberyn, but it had quickly become clear that the intelligence that Oberyn respected so much in Wilas was nowhere to be found in his father. The one thing Oberyn could say about the man was that he surrounded himself with good advisors. Thanks to the lords under him Mace Tyrell was responsible for the traitor’s Robert’s first true lose at the battle of Ashford, and instrumental in the taking of Storm’s End.

The doors to the throne room banged open and Mace Tyrell finally strode in, flanked by no less then twenty guardsmen clad in Tyrell colors from head to toe. _Well no one will ever accuse the man of subtlety._ Oberyn stood to greet him. “Lord Tyrell thank you for joining us. Are you prepared to begin?”

Lord Tyrell sat down on Oberyn’s left, his guard circling around the back of his chair. He smiled, looking almost giddy. “Yes, thank you Lord Protector.”  

Sighing Oberyn pulled out the list of names. “Very well then.” He turned to the two members of the Kingsgurad present. “Call the first subject.” As Ser Whent called the first name, some lowborn knight, Oberyn thought briefly to his strategy here. _Start with a few easier names and work our way up._ Varys had agreed, this way Oberyn could try and win over the crowd before the harder cases with the high lords started. Looking around the room Oberyn saw contingents of nearly every major family there. _No surprise really considering what’s at stake here._ The Lannisters, Baratheons, Starks, Tullys and even the Arryns could lose much here today. The other houses, major and minor, were there to watch as much as they were to support their liege lords. After all any weakening of one of the great houses could strengthen someone else’s position.

The first few cases were easy enough, a few reparations here and there but nothing too serious. Oberyn soon found himself only half paying attention in spite of his position. The day was quickly passing, and before long Oberyn knew he’d have to move onto the more difficult cases. He caught sight of Tywin Lannister in the crowd. The man had made it abundantly clear he wanted Jamie released. _Fat chance of that happening. The people won’t stand for the man who slew the King going free. No matter how rich his family is._ Lord Tywin’s other two children sat with him. Oberyn couldn’t help but wonder what they were thinking. _Do they pray for their brother? Or do they hope to become the heirs themselves?_ Oberyn would put very little past the Lannisters. Mace Tyrell’s voice cut through his train of thought.

“What do you think Lord Protector? Is three fingers adequate?”

The man on the stand now was a goldcloak, accused of stealing during the attack on King’s Landing. The man had admitted to taking things from fallen soldiers, but only from those who were already dead. Oberyn sighed. The man would be little use to the goldclaoks if lost his whole hand-yet he had admitted to the theft, hence the fingers. The law called for fingers to be taken off the man’s dominant hand, the hand that committed the crime. But of course that was also his sword hand.

“Three fingers will be sufficient. But only remove one from his sword hand. Take the others from his left. He must still be able to serve the city.” Oberyn declared. That got some rumbling from the crowd but the majority of the lords and ladies seemed agreeable. _We’ll see how long that lasts._ The goldcloak for his part wept tears of joy.

“T-Thank you my lords. I ensure you will I will ever be your humble servant from here on-“

The High Septon nodded diligently. “Good my son. You may step down.” Two knights escorted the man away to say goodbye to the fingers. Ser Whent looked up to Oberyn questioningly.

“Who will be next Lord Protector?”

Oberyn steeled himself, ready for the crowd. _It had to happen eventually. “_ Call in Lord Eddard Stark.” Ser Whent nodded and gestured to the sentries. They opened the doors. The crowd was on their feet now, all clamoring to get a view of the man. As the guards ushered Lord Eddard inside the crowd began buzzing, their voices drowning out all other noise in the hall. Lord Eddard’s wrists were bound in irons, but he looked other wise the very picture of a high lord. His bearing and demeanor belayed none of the nerves he must surely be feeling. _This at least is an honorable man_ Oberyn thought. He’d decided last night to start the more high profile trials with Lord Stark. He and Jon Arryn would likely get off easiest of the lords today. As Lord Eddard climbed into the stand Mace Tyrell attempted to silence the crowd.

“Order please. Order…Now Lord Stark you understand how these proceedings will unfold?

“I do.”

“Once we three have determined your guilt or innocence of the charges we will see if there needs be some punishment .” The High Septon said picking up where Tyrell left off. “Are you ready to proceed?”

Eddard Stark stood firm “I am.”

The High Septon nodded. “Good. Then why don’t you begin my Lord, by telling the court in your own words of your part in the insurrection.”

For several hours it seemed, Lord Eddard laid out his case. How his sister had left with the Prince. The misunderstanding. Of his brother and father’s terrible end at the hands of King Aerys. Bit by bit Lord Eddard lay the whole bloody war out for the tribunal. _It seems so silly when put like this._ Oberyn thought. _All that death because two people fell in love_. _The Gods must laugh at our folly._ Finally Stark finished his testimony.

Mace Tyrell coughed. “Before we proceed with our judgment is their anything else you wish to tell the court?”

“I hear congratulations are in order Lord Stark. Your wife has had a son no?” the High Septon asked.

“ She has sirs.”

“Then perhaps the court must lean towards mercy. Enough boys have lost fathers already.”

Mace Tyrell glared at the High Septon. “Yet he admits to his crimes! Prince Oberyn surely you-“

Oberyn silenced the man with hand. “On the guilt or innocence of the man before us there can be doubt. Lord Eddard has admitted his part in all this.” Mace Tyrell puffed up at that Oberyn noticed. The man could be truly grating at times. “But as for his punishment…I wish to hear from the other ring leaders before I pass judgment.”

“A wise move Lord Protector.” The High Septon smiled. “One must have the Crone’s wisdom to choose between the Mother’s mercy and the Father’s judgment.”

Oberyn nodded. He was not overly religious himself, but the High Septon’s words would carry weight with the audience who all craved a quick verdict. “Send in Lord Jon Arryn next if you would.”

Lord Arryn’s account when he took the stand was very much the same as Lord Eddard’s had been. Oberyn almost felt sorry for the man. He had helped foster both Stark and Baratheon since they were young and felt it just doing his duty to protect them from the Mad King’s wrath. Lord Arryn had lost his own heir in the bloody war. If his line was to survive he’d have to pull one out of his new Tully wife, who from what little Oberyn had seen of her, seemed ill willed towards the man. Jon Arryn finished soon enough and was ushered off to the side with Lord Eddard easily enough. But all hell broke loose once Robert Baratheon entered the hall.

The man cursed and yelled at his jailors as they moved him up to the stand, and the entire crowd was on its feet again clamoring to get a look at the beast of a man who had slew Prince Rheagar. Once Robert was finally in the witness stand three goldcloaks had to chain him to it to prevent him from throttling the jailors. Robert gave the chains a powerful pull, but they held firm. He glared up at the three men ready to judge him.

“So this is how you treat Lords now is it? Chained like some trussed up dog?” he bellowed.

It was the High Septon who answered him, the man’s pale brow creased deeply with disdain. “Perhaps if the Lord didn’t insist on behaving as such these measure would not need to be taken.” Oberyn had heard the High Septon had sent one of his faithful to visit Robert and help absolve the man of his sins. Robert had spit in the septon’s face. The act had certainly won him no favors, and burned the only potential ally he had on the tribunal.

Oberyn found himself not watching the man in front of him but his former comrades. Lords Stark and Arryn seemed almost as troubled by their friend’s antics as the High Septon. _They at least know he dooms himself. Robert is too foolish or too stubborn to care._

“You were the leader of this insurrection were you not?” The High Septon asked still glaring at him.

“I was.” Robert answered. He grinned wickedly “Crushed your men battle after battle. And I’d do it again.”

“You were not victorious at Ashford.” Mace Tyrell was quick to jump in. “And our fleet held Storm’s End captive till the end of your pitiful rebellion.”

Robert laughed, a dark glint in his eyes. “You did shit Tyrell. Tarly did all your fighting for you.”

Mace Tyrell flushed furiously. “How dare you speak to me-“

“Do you admit to killing the Crown Prince Rheagar Targaryen? Oberyn asked quickly cutting Lord Tyrell off.

“I killed the bastard. And I’d happily do it again.” Robert growled.

The galleys erupted with shouting at that. The High Setpton slammed his fist down on his chair, the banging of his rings echoing across the room. “Order!” He shouted. “We shall have order. This is a place of standing not some mummers farce.”

Robert for his part looked quite pleased with what he had wrought. He smiled wickedly up at the dais. _A man will find all measure of entertainment when he has lost all else_. Oberyn thought. _He doesn’t care if his life is forfeit._

Oberyn stood, drawing even more whispering from the crowd. “You admit then to the crime of high treason?”

“I do.” Robert barked back.

“Then by the power vested in me as Lord Protector of the Seven Kingdoms I do hereby sentence you to death!”

The crowd was overcome. Some shouted cheers others were crying for mercy. Robert for his part never even flinched. He simply starred up into Oberyn’s face, forcing the man to meet his eyes.

“And of the others Lord Protector?” Mace Tyrell asked “Will it be the sword for them as well?”

“There are more fitting punishments then death.” The High Septon said shooting a disdainful look at Tyrell.

Oberyn had not made up his mind until that very moment. But the High Septon was right. There was a more elegant solution for this mess. All at once Oberyn knew what he would do.

“As for the other leaders of the insurrection-it is decided that they shall be spared.” Sighs and several cheers came from the crowd. The two men in front of him look relived. _Don’t sing my praises just yet_. Oberyn thought. “However-The first born heir of all the rebels will be taken…and fostered here at court. They will be our honored guests.” Oberyn didn’t need to say it but he found it slipping out nonetheless. “But if any more problems are to arise…that situation may be revised.”

Oberyn saw both Stark and Arryn pale somewhat at his proclamation. He’d effectively just taken Stark’s infant son, and any future son of Arryn hostage. But Oberyn could hardly let the men off free. And though he thought them honorable, having their sons as insurance for Aegon’s reign could help keep things stable. And for his part Oberyn truly would treat the boys well. They would have access to the best of books and weapons, a childhood indeed fit for a prince. And if Aegon were to develop friendships with these boys those alliances could ensure this kind of pointless violence never happened again. Oberyn turned to the men behind him. The High Septon seemed pleased, and even Mace Tyrell seemed mollified for the moment.

“I think that’s enough for today don’t you? Why don’t we adjourn until tomorrow.” Oberyn said, his tone carrying just enough of an edge to say it wasn’t really a suggestion.

The High Septon smiled. Oberyn seemed to be winning him over. “A fine idea Lord Protector. We have done much already.”

_And tomorrow the true difficulty begins._ For all the strain of trying the three leaders of the rebellion today, the end had been fairly straightforward. From the beginning Robert Baratheon at least was doomed. And Oberyn’s move today had helped ensure there would be no reprisals from their houses. But tomorrow could be more difficult. Oberyn saw Lord Tywin glaring at him as he left the hall.

He sighed.

_What in seven hells am I going to do with Jamie Lannister?_

 

***

The question kept Oberyn tossing and turning all night. The obvious answer was to have the man executed and be done with it. But things were rarely so simple. In spite of his disastrous raid on King’s Landing, Tywin Lannister still commanded one of the largest armies in the Seven Kingdoms, and with the royal forces and their allies stretched so thin after the war another conflict would be incredibly risky. But the man had killed his king. There was no getting around that. He must be punished. Oberyn was just beginning to finally drift to sleep when a knock came at his door. He groaned in frustration.

“Enter!” He called out bitterly.

His squire Damon poked his head through the door.

“Apologizes Prince Oberyn. But Lord Lannister is here. He says its matter of some urgency.”

_Damn Tywin Lannister._ Oberyn sighed. “Send Lord Tywin in.”

“It’s not him my Lord.” Daemon paused awkwardly. “It’s-it’s the Imp…”

_The younger son. Interesting._ Oberyn climbed out of bed and pulled on a robe tying it loosely across his bare chest. A moment later the man waddled in. Oberyn had never formally met Tyrion Lannister but his reputation preceded him. Even in Dorne he was known as a shrewd man who frequently indulged in women and wine. _We should get along well then._ Oberyn smiled.

“Lord Tyrion. To what do I owe such a late interruption?”

“My apologizes Prince Oberyn. But I’ve just come from seeing my brother.”

Oberyn frowned. “And why should your visit with the Kingslayer affect me?

Tyrion grimaced slightly at the use of that name but plunged on nonetheless. “He had some rather interesting things to say.”

Oberyn stepped over to the large desk in the adjoining room. He pulled out a chair and gestured for Tyrion to take the other. “And you think these things may be of interest to me.”

“I do.” Tyrion picked up a goblet from the table and poured himself a glass of the Dornish wine Oberyn had been drinking earlier. He moved to fill a glass for Oberyn but the prince waved him off. “At the very least I think the information he has should affect the outcome of his trial tomorrow.“

“But you won’t tell me what information that is.” Oberyn said his eyes narrowed.

Tyrion sipped the wine and smiled. “I’d prefer you hear it from him. After all he said you haven’t been to see him once. I’ve been told my brother is quite the handsome man. Isn’t the famed Red Viper of Dorne supposed to appreciate these things?

Oberyn chuckled. _He’s cheeky this one_. Out of the corner of his eye Oberyn noticed Daemon suddenly giving him his full attention. _Interesting_. Pushing that thought aside however entertaining it might be, Oberyn turned back to the matter at hand. “If this information your brother has is as influential as you say why has he not offered it up for his case already? Why just tell you now?”

The dwarf drained his goblet and dropped it back onto the table. His charming façade was slipping now. “My brother and I have always been close…Even so it took a great deal of prying on my part to get him to open up. Frankly I don’t know why he choose to keep silent as long as he did.”

“But you say he’ll speak to me now.”

“If you agree to see him he’s assured me he’ll speak.”

Oberyn was silent for a moment. Then he turned to Daemon.

“Fetch us a torch please. It seems we’ll be visiting the dungeons.”

The boy blushed and hurried off to comply.

 

***

The black cells were not designed for comfort. Even with the light radiating from the torch Oberyn carried they were dim and dank. Oberyn and Tyrion walked in silence. When they finally reached the Kingslayer’s cell Tyrion stepped forward first.

“Jamie?”

There was sudden movement but standing farther back Oberyn couldn’t yet make out the man.

“Come to see me again little brother?”

“I’ve brought Prince Oberyn. I’d like you tell him what you told me.”

Oberyn stepped forward and the torchlight spilled across Jamie Lannister’s face. Tyrion hadn’t been wrong, his brother was attractive, but the several weeks worth of grim and dirt had somewhat diminished the Kingslayer’s visage. “What is it you have to say Kingslayer?”

Jamie Lannister glared at Oberyn. He turned to Tyrion. “I told you I wouldn’t speak to him.”

“And I, being the superior thinker that I am, ignored your wishes.” Tyrion said. “Help yourself brother.”

Oberyn turned to Tyrion. “You told me he had information.”

“Which he does.” Tyrion began. “But I also said he had some…reluctance…with sharing it.”  

“My trial is tomorrow. I have nothing to say.”

Tyrion raised his hand in exasperation. “Do you want to die? Think of the family. Father will no doubt be furious. And as for Cersci-“

“Stop.” The Kingslayer cut his brother off angrily. “I told you I have noting to say.”

“I think we’re finished here.” Oberyn turned to leave.

“Wait!” Tyrion shouted. He turned back to his brother, desperate now. “If not for you or for the family Jamie then for your honor. Your legacy. Do you want the King’s Guard to always remember you like this?

“…You always do know what to say.” The Kingslayer answer bitterly. “Very well. I’ll tell Prince Oberyn the truth.”

“The truth?” Oberyn could feel his anger spiking. “Do you deny that you murdered your own King with the very blade you swore to protect him with? That you helped your father and his forces decimate this city? What truth could possibly come from a traitor like you?”

The man was silent for a moment but Oberyn could see something burning in his gaze. _But what is it? Anger? Shame? Pride even?_

“…I deny nothing.” The Kingslayer’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “But there are things you do not know…”

“Enlighten me.” Oberyn said bitterly.

“Tell me Prince Oberyn-you were a loyalist yes, but do you really think of the King as so great a loss? The man who was holding your family in the capitol, his hostages even while his own fled?”

“The man may have been mad, but he was still the King.”

“So he should have held the position until he died on his own? Tell me would you have felt the same way if it had been Rheagar and not Robert leading the rebellion?”

“Jamie enough!” Tyrion broke in. “Stop antagonizing the man. Tell him what the King did.”

“…Were you aware Lord Oberyn of the Mad King’s latest appointment as Hand of the King?

“Some pyromancer. Wisdom Ressit or something.”

“Rossart.” Jamie corrected. “A man who shared the Mad King’s love of fire. When Areys made Rossart Hand he had the pyromancers hide caches of wild fire all over the city. The King insisted that if the city were to fall that they be lit.”

“It seems the Mad King shared the dream of the great Aerion Brightflame, and learned nothing from his death.” Tyrion said.

“When they found the King’s body I’m told this Rossart’s was near at hand as well. Was that your work too then?” Oberyn asked.

“Yes it was. And I’m happy to take the credit for it.”  

Tyrion sighed. “Jamie…”

            “And what of this wildfire?” Oberyn interjected. “Where is it now?”

            “Scattered around the city. But safe. Rossart and Areys were the only two who knew of the plan.”

            “But you know where it is.”

            “One of the advantages of the Mad King’s paranoia. I never left his side for his fear of my father joining the rebels.”

            “And I assume you’d be willing to tell me the locations for a lesser sentence.” Oberyn said bitterly.

            Jamie glared at Oberyn darkly. “No.”

            “Excuse me?”

            “Brother the whole point of this was to-“

            “I said I won’t leverage the information for a better sentence. I never said I wouldn’t tell you it.”

            Oberyn was silent for a moment. _What’s his angle here?_ “You expect me to believe that you would trade away your only bargaining chip and want nothing in return?”

            “I don’t expect you to believe it but it’s what I’m telling you.”

            Tyrion seemed at a loss. “Jamie-if you do this you’re almost certainly condemning yourself to death…Do you want to die?” He turned to Oberyn now. “And you’ll let him? You’ve heard what he’s said. Do you think he truly deserves to die?”

            Oberyn frowned, and suddenly found himself unable to look at either Lannister. “Unfortunately the law is clear…”

            “Prince Oberyn surely-“

            “A Lannister always pays his debts.” Jamie whispered softly.

            “What?” Tyrion asked baffled.

            “Regardless of why I did it I killed the King. That’s a debt I must pay.”

            “Yes but you did it to protect the city! You were doing your duty-“

            “My duty was to protect the King. Should my knight’s vow to common people really supersede that?” Jamie laughed bitterly. “So many vows. A knight is forced to break any number of them to uphold others. Protect the weak. Obey your King…” Jamie spat into the corner of his cell. “It’s all just words in the end…” He grinned morbidly. “To tell it true I’ll be glad to be free of this nest of vipers. It’s you all who deserve my pity as I see it.”

            The three men were silent for a while after that. In spite of his crimes and his feelings towards the attack on King’s Landing, Oberyn could not bring himself to hate the man before him. And yet on the morning he would have to condemn the him to death. Finally Jamie spoke again.

            “Fetch me a quill and ink and I’ll show you all Aerys’ hiding places.”

            Oberyn nodded. “I’ll have some sent down.” He turned to go the torchlight receding from the cell. Tyrion made no move to go.

            “Could you have an extra torch brought with that?” The Imp sat down against the wall his squat legs resting against the bars of the cell. “I mean to stay with my brother awhile…”

***           

An hour later a knock on Oberyn’s door signaled the arrival of the map. The Kingslayer’s crude sketch of the city identified five different stockpiles of the cursed substance. Oberyn immediately sent men he knew to be loyal to investigate all five and secure them so they could begin safely removing the vials of wildfire.

***

            In the morning the tribunal heard Jamie Lannister. He accepted his execution without even flinching. Traditionally, as Lord Protector, Oberyn would be expected to attend such an event. But when the hour came he found his will lacking. He tasked Mace Tyrell with overseeing the execution, an honor the man was positively giddy about receiving. Finding his enthusiasm even more off putting, Oberyn wandered the Red Keep. The Red Viper of Dorne was far from squeamish, and in truth Oberyn would normally have been willing to even swing the sword himself, but something about Jamie Lannister had gotten to him. Without even meaning to he found himself wandering into White Sword Tower. The Kingsguard’s rooms appeared empty today, Selmy and Hightower were helping oversee their sworn brothers execution and Ser Whent was standing vigil over the young princes back in their quarters. Arthur Dayne was most likely sleeping, tasked with reliving Ser Whent later. The other rooms currently sat empty. Oberyn wondered for a moment which of them had belonged his uncle. And there, in the middle of the room, sat the White Book.

            The book was resting on the center table in front of the Lord Commander’s seat. Oberyn wondered if he’d been updating it. Without meaning to he found himself sliding into the Lord Commander’s chair and opening the book. It was filled with the histories of some of the most famous knights the Seven Kingdoms had ever known. Much of their tales were public knowledge, but every so often Oberyn came across something less well known. He could have spent hours reading the book, learning all the secrets it contained, but he found himself seeking out one page in particular. He finally found it, buried in the middle of the impressive tome. _Ser Jamie Lannister._

The entry was only a single page, small compared to some other famous knights in the book. Oberyn skimmed over his accomplishments. _Youngest man ever appointed to the Kingsguard. Knighted by the Sword of the Morning after disguising himself against the Kingswood Brotherhood._ Oberyn skipped to the bottom of the page. The ink there was darker, fresh from the new note Lord Commander Hightower had added. _Betrayed and slew his King at the battle of King’s Landing in the War of the Usurper._ The War of the Usurper… it seemed strange to Oberyn to see a name for an event in such recent memory. He wondered briefly how different the entry might have been had Robert and his men succeeded.

            A noise from the apartment pulled Oberyn’s attention. Arthur Dayne had opened his door and was staring at Oberyn, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

            “Forgive me Ser Dayne. I did not mean to wake you. It seems my curiosity got the better of me.” Oberyn stood and bowed his head in apology.

            “The knowledge in the White Book is as much for you as it for the sworn brothers.” A small smile creep across the man’s face. “As for my resting, old habits die hard Lord Protector. I think we can both agree that it’s better for me to be a light sleeper eh?

            “I don’t doubt the merits of it no. But I’d still prefer you well rested when it’s your turn to guard my nephew.”

            Ser Dayne smiled again, a sadder more thoughtful look passing over him. “I assure you Prince Oberyn I’ll manage…of late sleep has been… elusive…even there I find my thoughts turning to Ashara.”

            Oberyn felt a brief pang of guilt. Consumed as he was by his own grief and torments he had almost forgotten of Ser Arthur’s loss. Although by now all had heard of her tragic death, the family had kept the details fairly quite. Ashara had thrown herself from the one of Starfall’s towers, but no one seemed to know why. Last Oberyn had heard no body had been found.

            “Of your sister’s end…I’ve heard-“

            Ser Dayne gave Oberyn a solemn look and gestured to the White Book. “Who are you reading? Your uncle?

            Oberyn noted of course as the knight evaded his question. But having so recently lost Elia he understood all to well the pain the man must be in. He would talk when he was ready. Oberyn shook his head. “No. Ser Jamie…I did wonder though which room had been my Uncle Lewyn’s.

            Arthur gestured to the room adjoining his own. “Your uncle was my neighbor. You’re welcome to look inside if you like. Although…many of his personal effects have already been removed…”He trailed off, studying Oberyn’s face carefully.

            _Protecting him even now._ Oberyn felt a surge of pride that in death his uncle could still inspire such loyalty from his sworn brothers. “I know of his paramour. I met her once, briefly, when I visited the capitol. She seemed to make him happy.”

            Arthur Dayne nodded sadly. “That she did. After his passing…we thought she’d like something to remember him by. I hope you don’t object.”

            Oberyn smiled. “I’m sure he have wanted her to have whatever personal items he’d left behind.”

            “You’ll find no mention of her in there.” Ser Dayne said gesturing back the White Book. “He may have broken his vow of chastity but Prince Lewyn did his duty till the end.”

            “A somewhat ridiculous vow to my mind.” Oberyn replied. “The King already commands the loyalty of the sword in your hand, why should he need to control the one between your legs as well?”

            Ser Dayne’s cheeks flushed slightly. “It is meant to be a life of servitude. No different from a Septon. They are the gods’ men and we are the king’s.”

            Oberyn laughed. “Show me three Septons and I’ll show you three well paying customers. Pious men frequent the brothels as often as the rest of us. And as for service-where is it written to serve is starve oneself? Does the King not serve the realm? And yet no one seems to expect him to abstain as you say. In fact the people expect that he’ll breed frequently so that his sons and daughters might unite the realm once more when he’s gone.”

            “Knights are not king’s.”

            Oberyn grinned. “On that much Ser Dayne we agree. But you are all men.”

            “Where then do you draw the line Lord Protector? Which vows should a knight follow and which should he ignore? Or do you believe all vows serve no purpose?” Arthur Dayne asked, a tinge of anger creeping into his voice.

            Oberyn found his gaze falling back to White Book, still proudly displaying the entry for the Lannister boy. “No…no some vows should not be broken.”

            For a moment the two men were silent. Oberyn stared at the heraldry that blazoned the top of the page. On one side the Lannister lion, on the other the pure white shield of the Kingsguard. _But can one ever truly replace the other?_

            “Did he tell you of the wildfire?” Oberyn finally asked.

            Arthur shook his head. “Not until after you met with him. It’s all been safely contained. The alchemists were as anxious to reclaim it as we were to be rid of it.”

            _An order of madmen and quacks but they hold a weapon with the power to destroy the city._ “I hope it was made clear to the pyromancers that their…art… will only be tolerated so long as we have oversight of it.”

            Arthur nodded. “They were less than receptive. But we will have oversight.”

            “Good.” Oberyn sighed. _One crisis finished, a million more ready to begin._ “…What do you think of the entry Commander Hightower wrote? This bit at the end? I assume you read it…”

            “I did.” Arthur Dayne’s reply was short and even. He was silent for a moment after. “ It is the truth. Or part of it anyways.”

            “It’s the part that isn’t here which concerns me. If we’re to condemn a man to die don’t we at least owe it to him to record his full story?”

            Ser Dayne’s reply was awhile in coming. “…Despite it’s claims the White Book is far from complete. How many secrets do you think have been hidden from it over the years? Like your own uncle’s lover…”He paused as if to gauge Oberyn’s reaction before he resumed speaking. “The book is meant to record and honor the knights who served the King. Like it or not that means it takes the King’s side. Always.” He sighed. “The Kingsguard are meant to be the best of the best and their stories must reflect that. Where we can we shield our brothers from scrutiny. But we must do this as well. To offer any caveat to Jamie Lannister’s guilt would be to justify his actions.”

            “He asked me something…” Oberyn began after a moment “…when I went to see him. He asked if I thought the King was truly worth defending. If in our heart of hearts the loyalists didn’t think the realm would be better off without him…”

            “The Mad King may not have been a great man, but Rheagar was.”

            Oberyn sighed grimly. “So that’s it then? We suffer through the bad kings to make it to the good ones?

            “And where we can we make them better.” Arthur answered. “I believe your nephew will make a fine king someday.”

            Oberyn shut the White Book, its heavy pages resonating through the table. “No one will ever know what Jamie Lannister did to protect the people of this city.”

            “With respect Prince Oberyn, we will.”

            Oberyn turned to the man resigned. Justice wasn’t supposed to feel like this. “And that’s enough?” he asked.

            “It has to be.”

***

            When Oberyn finally returned to his own quarters he was swarmed with advisors. Mace Tyrell, Sers Hightower and Selmy, Varys, Pycelle, and even the High Septon were waiting for him. Poor Daemon was trying in vain to answer their questions.

            “What do you mean you don’t know where he is boy?” Mace Tyrell gasped, seemingly out of breath from the stairs. “This is important damn it!”

            “Lord Tyrell I apologize-“ Before Oberyn could finish the crowd began talking all at once. He held up his hand to silence them. “What seems to be the problem?”

            “Everything Prince Oberyn!” Mace Tyrell blustered. “I tried to keep order I assure you. You yourself could not have been a more commanding presence-“

            Oberyn turned to Commander Hightower, the only man not shouting for his attention. Oberyn noticed with alarm that he was holding his right arm gingerly. Blood was streaked across the breastplate of his armor. “What happened?”

            Hightower coughed. “The execution was going as planned Lord Protector-but then Tywin Lannister had something to say about it.”

            “His man at least.” Barristan Selmy interjected. “Lord Tywin of course denies everything.” He was looking at his Commander with a mix of worry and pride.

            “The Mountain tried to stop the execution. Jumped right up onto the stage. Planned to make off with the Kingslayer to some place outside your control no doubt.” Hightower grunted.

            The High Septon nodded. “Ser Hightower was most excellent. He dueled the man and slew the mad beast before harm could fall on anyone.”

            “And the execution still went through Prince Oberyn.” Mace Tyrell was hasty to add. “I made sure of it.”

            “The rest of my men were able to take the Lannister’s into custody. But with all their other soldiers outside the city gates they might not stay there long.” Hightower finished. The big man was putting on an impressive face, but Oberyn could tell he must be in considerable pain.

            “Thank you for everything Lord Commander Hightower.” Oberyn said. He turned to glare at Pycelle. “This man should be getting medical attention. Now. Pull every maester in the city if you have to. He deserves out thanks.”

            Pycelle looked very nervous. “O-of course my Lord. But the other maesters in your charge can attend to Ser Hightower. Surely it serves you better to have my consul here-“

            _Where you can lobby for Lord Tywin no doubt_. In truth Oberyn would have preferred to have Pycelle out of the city all together, but putting him in charge of the Lord Commander’s recovery would take him out of Oberyn’s hair for the time being. And with so much attention on him Pycelle would never dare to sabotage Hightower’s health. _But he is still a problem. Just one to be dealt with another day._

            As Pycelle shuffled off with Hightower, Selmy lingered watching them leave with anxious eyes.

“Go.” Oberyn said gently. “Help your Commander.”

Selmy bowed his head in thanks and hurried off after them. Oberyn turned to the remaining men before him.

“Speak plainly now. How serious a problem will Tywin Lannister be?

“My Lord there is no way of knowing!” sputtered Mace Tyrell. “He is the Warden of the West. The forces he could call-“

“Was the crowd on his side?” Oberyn asked “When his man the Mountain attacked how did they react?”

“The people of King’s Landing are on your side Prince Oberyn. They remember all too well who attacked their city.” Varys said in a smooth voice. “As for the rest of the Seven Kingdoms…”

“It was unwise for Tywin to make so public a move.” The High Septon frowned. “Ser Hightower’s bravery will inspire many to see your side. But then I suppose a father’s love could make a fool of us all…”

            _Trust a Septon to see a sermon in all this_. Oberyn thought. The news was welcome though. The question then was how to proceed? For all his faults Lord Tyrell had a point. Tywin was the Warden of the West…

            “Call all the lords and ladies at court into the throne room. I want them all there to see the Lannister’s punishment.

 

***

            Almost two hours later everything was finally ready. All the high lords and ladies had assembled and the guards had escorted the Lannisters into the throne room. Unlike the trials earlier there were no chains binding them. Tywin and his daughter Cersci were glaring around the room. Tyrion had not been with his family at his brother’s execution, but nonetheless he had insisted on standing with them when they came before Oberyn.

“What ever else may happen they’re still my family.” he had told Oberyn with a twinge of resentment. The unspoken end to the sentence hung in the air between them. _Even if you kill them like you did my brother_. Oberyn found he could bear no ill will towards the man. In spite of his crimes Jamie had still been the closest member of his family to Tyrion from what Oberyn had observed. And however guilty Jamie Lannister had been under the law, Oberyn was still the man responsible for passing the sentence. He sighed. He hoped in time Tyrion would be able to forgive him. Oberyn had rather liked the little man, and if today was any indication he might very well be the only Lannister Oberyn was capable of working with.

Daemon took a quick glance through the King’s door out into the throne room. “They look ready for you Prince Oberyn. Shall I have a chair brought in for you?”

Oberyn took a calming breath and clasped the boy on his shoulder. He was diligent and loyal, and Oberyn was quickly taking a liking to him. Doran had chosen well. “Not this time.”

“My Prince..?”

Ignoring Daemon’s question Oberyn opened the door and strode into the throne room. He was alone on the dais today, the High Septon and Mace Tyrell seated in the galley with the rest of the gathered nobles. All eyes turned to Oberyn as he stepped out. Daemon was right, there was no chair on the dais, none that was save the Iron Throne itself. Slowly, carefully, Oberyn climbed the steps and sat in the monstrosity. _That_ got them talking. The crowd erupted into whispers and gasps. As Lord Protector Oberyn was well within his right to sit the throne, but this would be the first time since accepting the position he exercised that power.

“Tywin Lannister!” Oberyn called out, raising his voice to echo around the hall. “You stand accused of interfering with a lawful execution. Of presuming to supersede royal decree. Crimes tantamount to treason.” Oberyn paused to let his word sink in moment. “How do you answer these charges?”

“Truthfully Lord Protector.” Tywin Lannister called back with a small sneer. “ Whatever crimes were committed today were entirely the doing of Ser Gregor Clegane. A man now dead.”

_And thank the gods he is._ Oberyn had taken no small amount of pleasure in hearing it was the Mountain who had made the attempt to save Jamie Lannister. Now the man who had slain and brutalized his sister and niece would never hurt anyone again. _The Bull broke the Mountain. I hope it was a painful end._

“You would have all us here believe” Oberyn gestured to the watching lords and ladies. “that a knight, sworn to you, attempted to save your son from the executioner’s blade, but did so on his own free will and not your orders?”

“As I’ve said…he acted alone.”

“Just as I’m sure he acted on his own when you attacked King’s Landing. Was raping and murdering my sister Princess Elia and her daughter Rhaenys also just the Mountain’s doing?”

The crowd broke out in whispering again. Tywin glared up at Oberyn. Oberyn scowled back. _Don’t like what implying? Or are you only upset you’ll be unable to deny it?_

“I assure you Prince Oberyn whatever you think you know you’re very much mistaken.” Tywin responded venomously.

“You find the rape and murder of women and children despicable do you Lord Tywin?”

Tywin sneered. “Of course.”

“As do I.” _I have you now you animal._ Oberyn smiled sinisterly. “I assume then that you must have punished this man, Ser Gregor, when you found out what he had done yes? A punishment fitting the crime you find so deplorable.”

Tywin was silent. Next to him Cersei was shooting daggers at Oberyn. _Not used to seeing your great father lose?_ Oberyn thought smugly. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying this. Watching the family that had so wronged his squirm.

“But you didn’t did Lord Tywin? In fact to this day, months later the man was still an honored knight of your company, a commander of hundreds. Tell me how is that possible?”

“There were…accusations made of Ser Gregor certainly” Tywin spoke slowly and deliberately “but nothing was proven-“

“By accusations do you mean the eye witnesses who saw him commit his crimes? And who after watched him drape Lannister cloaks over the mangled bodies of my family? Oberyn demanded his anger coming through clearly now. _I will make sure you pay Lannister._

The crowd was in an uproar now. Oberyn could hear cries for the Lannister’s execution and just as many cries for mercy. Tywin was eerily silent.

“If you are to tell me Lord Tywin that with all this evidence before you, you not only didn’t punish the man, but continued to employ him in your service, then I can only conclude that you must have approved what he did. One way or another. And now this same man, again commits treason, to save your son, and you would have us believe you had no part in it? I do not believe it.”

Oberyn stood up now, glaring down at the Lannisters. The crowd was cheering. “Hence forth you and your family are banished from court. Your son and heir Tyrion will stay here in the capitol under my supervision. The rest of your house will return to the Westerlands. You will keep your titles and lands only as long as I see fit. Should your daughter ever be married I must approve the match. Thus I decree as Lord Protector. Is this clear Lord Tywin?”

There was a cold fury in Tywin Lannister’s eyes. This was a man who did not suffer humiliation lightly. His daughter Cersei was red faced with anger. Only Tyrion seemed unaffected by his judgment. _I’d say I made an enemy here today but in truth we’ve been enemies for sometime now haven’t we? Now it’s just out in the open._

“Crystal Prince Oberyn.” Tywin bit out the words as if he might choke on them.

“Then Lord Tywin-get the hell out of my city.”

Oberyn stepped down from the throne and made a beeline for the King’s Door, hoping to avoid the dispersing crowd.

“Prince Oberyn!”

Tyrion called after him. He was running to catch up with Oberyn, his small legs working twice as hard to cover the distance.

Oberyn paused on the other side of the door. Tyrion stepped though and Daemon latched it at a nod from Oberyn. “Yes Lord Tyrion?”

“While I’m not sure that was wise I admire your determination. My father can be a very dangerous man.”

“So I’m told. He does love to remind us all with that wretched song of his.”

“The Rains of Castamere yes.” Tyrion said. “You know there’s a reason we sing that song.”

“I don’t fear your father.”

Tyrion sighed. “Perhaps you should. He will remember what happened here today. It is a debt I assure you he will happily repay given the chance.”

Oberyn nodded. “ I don’t doubt it. But should your father try he might find the Red Viper is more dangerous then he could possibly imagine. “

 

***

The sun was setting again. Robert Baratheon couldn’t see much from his jail cell but the light from the window at least gave him some sense of the passing hours. His execution had been scheduled for the following morning. He could hear soft footsteps coming up the stairs and making there way towards his cell.

“I brought your dinner.”

The serving girl was young, she couldn’t have been more then sixteen or so Robert guessed. She was pretty too, long blonde hair tied up in bun behind her head. The girl was carrying what was to be Robert’s last meal. She pulled out the key to cell door and it slowly creaked open. After the trial Robert had been shackled by his wrist to one of the walls. It seemed the Dornish Prince wanted to take no chances. That hadn’t stopped Robert from trying though. But even pulling with all his strength the chain hadn’t budged. Seeing the open door now so close in front of him, but impossibly out of reach was torture.

The girl stepped inside and began setting up the tray. From the look of it the food had come fresh from the kitchens. Even so it seemed unappealing. Robert watched the girl as she worked an appetite of entirely different sort stirring in him.

“Are you a virgin?” He asked bluntly.

“I-w-what my lord?” the girl asked taken aback.

“Have you ever been with a man?” Robert leered.

The girl blushed furiously and shook her head.

“Would you like to be with a Lord?”

“M-my Lord…we shouldn’t. I can’t. I-I just, I’m only meant to provide the food.

Robert stood up from the bed. He was at least a good foot taller then the girl. But he didn’t want to scare her. He tried for a somber smile. “I’m to be executed on the morrow you know.”

“I-yes my lord. I’m sorry.”

Robert stripped off his shirt exposing his impressive physique to the young girl. “If this is to be my last night…it’d be a shame to waste it alone. Better to have some company wouldn’t you agree?”

The girl smiled nervously her eyes darting from Robert’s chest to the open door behind them.

He leaned forward his lips hovering just above hers. “No one would have to know. I’ll be dead tomorrow anyways…”

The girl laughed shyly and kissed him. Robert grinned wolfishly and pulled them both onto the bed in triumph.

 

***

Morning came and went soon enough. After the commotion at the Lannister boy’s execution Oberyn was glad to see Robert Baratheon’s go off without a hitch. He spent the better part of the afternoon replying to well wishes from various lords and ladies and sending ravens of his own to ensure the crown’s alliances. Lord Eddard’s son would be arriving at the capitol soon as would young Renly. And Oberyn had a whole host of positions to fill, vacancies left by the war.

After dinner Oberyn was finally able to break away from it all and visit the nursery. Arthur Dayne was on duty there tonight and nodded politely at Oberyn as he stepped inside. There were three cribs now. Princess Daenerys had been brought back to King’s Landing for a few days so the maesters could ensure she and the two princes were healthy. The three were asleep now.

The sun was slowly setting, red light pouring in from the window as it sunk low in the sky. Looking at the three infants before him Oberyn was overcome by a sudden sense of dread. They were all that remained of the once great Targaryen dynasty. Three little dragons, all orphaned before their first name day. Officially the war was over. The Kingdom was safe. But somehow Oberyn felt it was a more dangerous world than ever. Threats to the princes and the princess could lurk around any corner.

_I won’t fail again. You have my word Elia. I will protect our Aegon with my life._

_I will protect them all._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place in the year 295 AC, a little later than I"d intially planned. For quick reference the main characters ages are as follows:
> 
> Oberyn- 38 Aegon-13 Jon -12 Daenerys-11 Robb-12 Renly-18 Loras-13 Margaery- 12 Daemon-19

The dream came again. It appeared to Daenerys exactly as if had countless times before. She was wandering the halls of Dragonstone. The castle was completely abandoned, the torches all sitting dark in their sconces. But somehow in the dream Daenerys always knew where she was going. Then she heard it. The crying. It was familiar to her by now, but was still unlike anything else she had ever heard. Something in it called to her…

Daenerys rounded a corner, and then another, drawing closer and closer to the sound. The carved dragons on the castle walls seemed to move with her in the shadows. Finally she came upon the door. Darkness swallowed up any view of the room on the other side. Daenerys went to step through the door-

-and found herself waking up in an empty hallway. Again. She had thought for sure this time she’d find whatever she was dreaming of.

“Princess there you are!”

Lord Jon Connington, long time friend to Daenerys’ late brother Rheagar, and the current castellan of Dragonstone came walking up to her. He smiled sadly. “Did you have the nightmare again?”

Daenerys nodded slowly. In truth the dreams didn’t really feel much like nightmares. But the kindly Lord Jon had taken to calling them that when Daenerys had told him. He cared deeply for her Daenerys knew, and hated to see her suffer even something as innocuous as sleepwalking.

“The same corridor again. I knew when you weren’t in your room I’d find you here.”

Daenerys smiled and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “Sorry to have worried you.”

“Come along. You need to get ready for the day.”

Linking arms with the older man, the two of them began the short walk back to Daenerys’ room. Several guards nodded as they passed by. When the dreams had first started and Daenerys had woken up in a hallway in the middle of the castle, Jon Connington had taken her to see the maester. He had given her a clean bill, finding nothing wrong with her to explain the strange dreams. The maester had also given her a sleeping draft, to help clear her mind and help her avoid wandering the halls at night, but if had no effect. Every few days Daenerys would wake up in the same random hallway. Frustrated with the maester’s lack of progress, Jon Connington had placed guards along the path the princess always seemed to walk. The guards were never able to wake her, but Lord Jon insisted on their presence nonetheless to ensure Daenerys’ safety. Failing to protect one person he cared about was more than enough grief for a lifetime as far he was concerned.

By the time they reached Daenerys’ room her handmaiden was already laying out a dress for her.

“Princess.” The girl bowed.

Daenerys smiled. “Thank you Mila.”

The girl grinned. “Anything for the Princess. Dany later we should-“

“That will be all for now Mila. The Princess has a full day ahead of her.”

“Of course m’lord forgive me.” Mila said. “I’ll be by later if you need anything Princess.”

Mila scurried out the door. Daenerys turned to Jon with a scowl. “You didn’t have to be so mean.”

Jon sighed and tried not to smile. “I wasn’t Princess.”

“You sent her away.”

“You need to get ready. You can see Mila later sweetling.”

Daenerys considered that for a moment. “You promise?”

This time Jon couldn’t help but smile. “I promise Princess. But right now you need to get dressed.”

His words reassured Daenerys enough for her to snatch up her dress and step behind the divider. The dress Mila had laid out was one of her more elegant ones, silver to match her hair, with a dragon pattern worked across the bodice in thread of gold. Small pearls adorned the sleeves. Daenerys slid it on and stepped back out into her bedroom. She spun happily presenting herself to Lord Connington.

Jon Connington frowned slightly as he caught sight of the Princess. The dress was beautiful to be sure, but Daenerys’ last growth spurt had left it a little short. What had once reached down to her ankles now stopped only a few inches below her knees. He’d have to have the dressmakers work on it when he and the Princess returned. He sighed. She was growing up so fast…

Daenerys caught sight of his expression and her smile faltered. “What’s wrong Joncon?

The nickname brought a smile back to his face quick enough. When the Princess had first been learning to speak she’d found his name confusing, and had merged the first two syllables. Now years later, she still used the name occasionally as a sign of affection.

“Nothing Princess.” He reached out taking her smaller hand into his larger one. “We’d better get going.”

 

***

            “You have to get ready lover.”

            Oberyn sighed and turned to face Ellaria. “You’d think a man of my position would be able to do whatever he wants…” His hand slid under the silk sheets, gliding down the smooth skin of Ellaria’s back as he spoke. “…but here I am called from the bed of a beautiful woman to greet a man I don’t particularly like.”

            Ellaria smiled her own fingers dancing across Oberyn’s firm chest. “You know it’s important. You don’t want to offend the man.”

            “A little offense might do him good.” Oberyn grinned. “He’s only gotten more insufferable since he got a seat on the Small Council. If he wasn’t such an important ally for the crown I doubt I’d spend any time with him at all.”

Ellaria laughed, to Oberyn’s ears one of the world’s richest and most beautiful sounds. She kissed him and smacked his arm affectionately. “Poor Prince Oberyn. Go. The girls will be up soon enough anyways.”

Oberyn groaned but stepped out of bed with a smile. A knock sounded at the door.

“Enter.” Oberyn called.

Daemon Sand opened the door. “Report from our scouts sir-“ He caught sight of Oberyn, his eyes raking over the Prince’s nakedness. They lingered a moment on the impressive tool between the man’s legs.

Oberyn smirked. “Yes Daemon?”

Daemon’s head snapped up to meet the Prince’s eye, with a rueful grin. “Sorry sir…the scouts yes. They say Lord Tyrell’s retinue is an hour out from the city.”

“Well then I suppose I should get dressed.”

Daemon’s grin widened. “A wise idea my Prince. I doubt Mace Tyrell would appreciate you like this.”

“Make sure the other members of the council are informed.”

Daemon nodded earnestly. “Right away Prince Oberyn.”

When the door had closed again Ellaria turned to Oberyn with a smile. “The boy likes you. And he’s quite handsome…”

In truth at nineteen years of age, Daemon was a man grown. But Ellaria wasn’t wrong Oberyn thought, his former squire had become quite the looker. Now a knight in his own right, Daemon’s dashing good looks and roguish ways had charmed many a lady. More then once Oberyn had spied some young girl slipping out of his quarters come sunrise.

Oberyn pulled on a tunic and returned her smile warmly. “That he is my love. What do you think shall I invite him to join us sometime?”

“I doubt the boy would be willing to share his first time with you. But afterwards…”

Laughing Oberyn kissed her check. “I’ll see you later.”

Ellaria winked. “I expect a full report.”

“Of the council meeting?” Oberyn asked Ellaria feinting ignorance.

She threw a pillow at him grinning.

Oberyn laughed and pulled the door shut, the pillow thumping against it as it closed.

 

***

“What do you think the red or the black?” Aegon asked

“Red.” Jon said. “I’ll wear the black.”

Aegon tossed the black doublet to Jon on the bed and stripped off his tunic. “Hurry up and get dressed then.”

Jon sighed and picked up the doublet. “Why does Uncle Oberyn want us all there for this anyways?” When he was younger Jon hadn’t understood that he was unrelated to Oberyn. When Aegon referred to Oberyn as his uncle, Jon just assumed as brothers Oberyn must have been his uncle too. When Oberyn had finally explained everything, the toddler Jon had been heart broken. He’d asked Oberyn if he was allowed to call him Uncle anyways. The man had smiled warmly and said he’d be honored. As it stood today the Prince was the closest thing to a father either Jon or Aegon had ever known.

“The Tyrells are some of our strongest alleys. Without them we might not even be here.”

Jon pulled on the black doublet and sighed fiddling with the sleeves. “Robb doesn’t have to go.”

Aegon rolled his eyes. “Robb’s not a prince.”

A laugh sounded from the hall. “True enough.”

As if on cue Robb strode into the room and threw himself onto the bed next to Jon. “A fact I’m grateful for everyday. I have to attend enough balls and parties as it is. Besides if I were a prince what girl would ever look at you two?”

Jon snorted and Robb burst out laughing.

“Is there a reason you’ve both decided to invade my room?”

“Simple.” Jon said. “It’s the biggest.”

Jon and Aegon had shared a room when they were little and the two brothers were still close, insisting on having rooms next doors to each other. Robb’s quarters used to be a floor down in “Lord’s Lane” as the castle had come to call it. Renly still kept his quarters there but when he got older Robb had asked to move closer to Jon and Aegon, the three boys close ages making them fast friends.

“So when is the Lord Oaf of Highgarden due in anyways?” Robb asked.

Jon sighed. “Within the hour. But you shouldn’t call him that.”

Robb grinned. “Why not? Prince Oberyn does half the time.”

“Yes but not in public.” Aegon said exasperated. “And besides he’s Lord Protector.”

Robb laughed. “And I’m just a lowly lordling is that it?”

“Pretty much yes.” Aegon smiled. He moved closer to the bed and nudged Jon. “Come on. You can mope about later. We have to head down.”

Jon stood reluctantly and smoothed his doublet out. “I know…”

Robb smirked as he watched them leave. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll just be here languishing away waiting for you to return…”

 

***

The steps to the Red Keep were packed by the time Jon and Aegon arrived, but even so people easily made way for the two princes. They joined Oberyn at the front of the gathered throng. Ellaria stood next to him accompanied by Oberyn’s three eldest daughters. Ellaria’s own daughters were inside with a handmaiden, still too young and wild to appear at a formal event. Aegon smiled and nodded briefly at his cousins before settling into his place, Jon taking up the space on his right and his uncle on his left.

Oberyn chuckled and leaned down to whisper in his nephew’s ear. “You know your cousins all managed to get here on time. Perhaps they could teach you a thing or two or about manners. How would Lord Tyrell have reacted if the Crown Prince refused to greet him on his return to the capitol?”

Aegon laughed. The notion of the Sand Snakes teaching anyone manners was almost absurd. His cousins were the epitome of Dornish woman, strong willed and unwilling to conform to other’s opinions of them. Even Tyene who played the role of the innocent septa’s daughter to perfection had a wild side. Aegon was about to respond when the flash of sun reflecting off mail caught his eye.

Oberyn saw it too. “Here they come.”

The Tyrell procession was inside the city gates now, quickly making its way up to the palace. As they got closer Aegon could make out three white horses leading the charge. The first horse obviously sat Mace Tyrell. But Aegon couldn’t make out the other riders yet.

Oberyn’s eyes narrowed taking in the riders. “He brought some of his children…”

Ellaria laughed. “His daughter I’ll bet. His intentions seem obvious enough.”

“What do you mean?” Jon asked with a frown.

“It seems our Lord Tyrell may be after a betrothal.” Oberyn said.

Aegon stood silently and watched the riders. As Aegon had gotten older lords and ladies from all over the Seven Kingdoms had been trying to set him up with their daughters. Finally Oberyn had declared that no marriage pacts with Aegon would be made prior to his sixteenth name day. Nonetheless, guests at court were always bringing their daughters with them, hoping some impression in his youth might help sway Aegon’s feeling later. So far he’d been unimpressed.

The Tyrells stopped at the foot of the steps to the Red Keep. Mace Tyrell and his two children climbed down from their horses and slowly walked up to greet the royal family.

“Lord Tyrell.” Oberyn inclined his head respectfully. “Welcome back. King’s Landing has not been the same in your absence.”

Mace Tyrell smiled at that and bowed deeply. “You’re too kind Prince Oberyn. Please allow me to introduce my two youngest children-Loras and Margaery.”

As he stepped aside Aegon got his first good look at two people standing behind him. They were obviously siblings, both having the same brown curls. But while Margaery’s eyes were of a hue with her hair, her brother’s were a rich almost honey gold. They looked to be of an age with himself and Jon but he couldn’t be sure.

“They’re going to be staying with me for my tenure in the capitol.” Mace Tyrell said beaming. “Loras is already a sight to see with a sword and spear and Margaery is the perfect picture of a lady.”

Oberyn smiled and nodded at them each in turn. “We’ll be happy to have them.”

Margaery bowed her head politely. After a moment Loras followed her example, his eyes hovering over Aegon. _He’s sizing me up_ Aegon thought. Oberyn had told Aegon once of how Mace Tyrell’s endeavor’s for his eldest son Wilas to become a master knight had lead to the accident which lamed him. But from what he’d heard of Loras Mace Tyrell’s boast was warranted. Aegon was just as curious as Loras to see how they measured up.  

“The cooks have been working all morning in preparation for this evening’s feast.” Oberyn said. “I’m told it will be quite the banquet.”

“You’re too kind Prince Oberyn. Though I’m sure my children will appreciate it.”

Oberyn smiled, to Aegon’s eyes the look came out slightly forced. “Walk with me a moment will you Lord Tyrell? There are some matters before the Small Council to catch you up on. I’m sure Aegon and Jon here would be happy to show your children to some rooms…”

Aegon nodded stepping forward and playing host just as his uncle had taught him. “Of course uncle. There are some rooms which overlook the gardens that could be perfect.”

Margaery smiled and curtsied politely. “That sounds wonderful Prince Aegon. Thank you.”

“Right this way then my lady…”Aegon gestured back toward the Red Keep and offered his arm to the Tyrell girl. Jon and Loras fell in behind them the two boys exchanging silent nods.

 

***

The journey through the Red Keep was uneventful. Margaery and Aegon kept a polite conversation going. Loras interjected here and there with some story or other but Jon was mostly quiet. Was it not for their company Aegon might have sighed. Besides Robb and Aegon himself Jon didn’t really have many friends. Daenerys and the Sand Snakes too, Aegon supposed but really they were all family so Aegon wasn’t sure it counted. It wasn’t that Jon disliked other people, he just never seemed quite comfortable in public. The royal persona which had come so easily for Aegon and Daenerys was harder for him. Once people got to know him Jon could be as funny and charming as anyone, but being a prince it was rare that anyone stuck around long enough to break down Jon’s walls.

“I almost can’t imagine living here.” Margaery said with a laugh pulling Aegon out of his thoughts. “Highgarden is large too but I’ve lived there all my life. Here I’m likely to get lost everyday…”

Aegon smiled. “It can take some getting used to.”

“You’ll have to help me at first. It’d be terribly embarrassing to have to ask one of my handmaidens for directions.”

“I’d be happy to help my lady.” Aegon chuckled. “Though in truth I’m not sure even I know every secret of the castle.”

“We’ll have to discover them together then your Grace.” Margaery smiled her eyes seeming to sparkle in the sunlight. “But please call me Margaery. If we’re to be spending so much time together I’d like us to be friends.”

“Of course Margaery.” However obvious the girl’s attempts to develop a relationship with him might have been, Aegon found himself being charmed by her nonetheless. _Now I see why her father brought her._ Aegon found himself blushing as he struggled to find something to say the pretty girl on his arm. “But uhh- in truth your Grace is only used to refer to a King. Just Prince will do fine.”

Margaery laughed, a beautiful melodic sound that Aegon found he wanted to hear again and again. “How silly of me. I’m sorry my Prince you’ll have to forgive me. I have so much to learn about court…”

“Oh-well um-speaking of learning-I hear your eldest brother Wilas is quite the scholar.” Aegon fumbled.

“He is yes. Though Loras here is the better warrior. Wilas breeds some of the best hawks and horses in the Seven Kingdoms.” Margaery said. “Do you hawk much? I’m sure my brother would send you some of his best. I could write him-“

“Oh-actually Jon goes more than I do.”

Jon shot Aegon a confused look. Neither of the princes really had much interest in hawking though they had been a few times. But whenever they’d gone they’d always been together.  

Aegon gave Jon something between a grimace and a grin. _Help me_ he thought hoping Jon would pick up on his signal.

“Hawking…right.” Jon trailed off searching for something to say. “Truthfully my lady I’m not very good at the sport. But perhaps one of your brothers birds would help that.”

Margaery smiled. “I’m you sure you sell yourself short my Prince.”

By then thankfully they had reached the corridor of rooms Aegon had in mind so the boys were saved having to find a response.

“Your welcome to any of the rooms through here. Lord Renly occupies the last room on the left but the others are all open. The southern windows are the ones that look out over the gardens.”

“Thank you both. I’m sure they’ll be lovely.” Margaery said with a bow.

“Yes.” Loras said bowing stiffly as well. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing really.” Aegon answered grinning. “I’ll have some servants come by later to help you get settled in once you’ve chosen your rooms.”

Margaery bowed again. “Most appreciated.” She dropped arms with Aegon and linked hands with Loras. “Come along Loras. I want to see what the gardens look like…”

 

***

When Jon and Aegon finally made their way back up to their rooms Robb was still waiting impatiently. He perked up when he saw them.

“I heard Lord Tyrell brought two of his children.” Robb said.

Jon nodded. “Loras and Margaery. They’re almost of an age with us.”

“What are they like?” Robb asked eagerly.

Aegon sighed and loosened his doublet happy for the chance to relax a little. “They seem nice enough.”

“I hear Loras is supposed to be a good fighter. Do you reckon I’d be able to take him?”

Jon snorted. “Who know? We just met them Robb we didn’t exactly start sparring in the hallways…”

Robb laughed. “Yeah but still-“

A soft knock at the door cut Robb off suddenly.

“Enter.” Aegon called out halfhearted. He was hoping for some more down time. While he had learned to play the royal host well enough it was still somewhat taxing.

Tyene slipped inside, her golden hair and bright blues eyes standing out sharply against her soft white robe.

“Father asked me to check and make sure the Tyrell’s are settling in alright…”

“As best we can tell.” Aegon responded. “We left them to pick their rooms. I promised I’d send some help down later to move in their things.”

Robb smiled shyly. “Hi Tyene…”

Tyene nodded solemnly. “Father and the Small Council are meeting now. He wants us all to attend the banquet later. You too Robb.”

            “We’ll be there.” Jon said.

            Tyene smiled and stepped back out of the room. The boys were silent for awhile after she left. Finally Aegon stood up snatching a book off one of the shelves over the desk.

            “Well I don’t know about you too but I have work to do. Uncle Oberyn has me reading a history of the Seven Kingdoms…”

            Jon laughed. “He still has me reading about Dareon’s failed conquest of Dorne…”

            Aegon laid the monstrous tome down on the desk and pulled it open to the marked page. “I’ll see you both at the feast later…”

            Knowing when his brother wanted to be left alone Jon tapped Robb on the shoulder and together the two began the short walk to Jon’s room.

            “What sort of books do you suppose Tyene likes?” Robb asked

            Jon gave him a puzzled look. “Why do you ask?”

            Robb shrugged. “Just curious.”

            “I don’t know…” Jon trailed off, his brow knitted deep in though. “The Seven Pointed Star mainly I guess. Nym would know. I could ask her-“

            “Don’t bother.” Robb said hastily. “It’s not important…”

 

***

            “The princes seem nice don’t you think?”

            Loras gave a non-committal huff. He was staring out at the gardens. They were nice enough he supposed, but it didn’t compare to Highgarden.

            “Loras…” Margaery sighed and joined him at the window. “Are you even listening to me?”

            “I’m listening.” It came out more defensive than Loras had intended but even so he gave his sister a small smile.

            “Did you not like them?”

            “They seemed nice enough.” Loras said. “They certainly seemed to win you over. Why did you play the fool? You’ve been reading up about the Red Keep for months…”

            Margaery laughed and smiled coyly. “I was just being polite. I’m sure they enjoyed being helpful.”

            “Polite eh?” Loras grinned. “Is that what grandmother’s calling it now? Funny I don’t remember learning the same manners-“

            Margaery cut him off with a playful elbow to the ribs. He only laughed harder.

            “I’m going to start a letter to Wilas once we get our things. He’ll want to know all about our rooms.”

            Loras nodded. “I’m going to miss him too…”

            The two siblings were pulled from their thoughts of home by the sound of footsteps. A handsome man with jet-black hair and bright blue eyes peaked in through the door.

            “Are you the help Prince Aegon promised?” Loras asked “We’d like to get our things set up as soon as possible.”

            “I’m afraid not-although I’d be happy to help you however I can. My room is just down the hall.” The man said cheerfully. “It will be nice to have some new faces about.”

            “I’m Margaery Tyrell this is my brother Loras.” Margaery said offering her hand in welcome.

            “Renly” The man said taking Margaery’s hand with a smile. “Renly Baratheon.”

            _Baratheon._ The friendly smile slid off Loras’ face as he heard the name. His father had told them all about the traitorous house that had tried to usurper the throne. Only one of the brothers had survived. _And now he lives just down the hall from us_ … Loras thought bitterly.

            “So you’re the traitor’s brother?” Loras asked venomously.

            “Loras!” Margaery scolded. “The Baratheon’s were a noble and honorable house for centuries before the war. And besides Lord Renly was only a boy when the fighting broke out. He had no part in any of that…”

            Loras scowled. _Trust Margaery to play the politician._ For as long as Loras could remember Margaery had always been the more levelheaded of the two of them. She took more after Wilas and Garlan in that regard. The hours spent studying courtesy and decorum with their grandmother had always bored Loras. He knew how to be charming and respectful, but he was never very adept at hiding his true feelings. He preferred the more direct approach.

            Renly had cringed a bit at Loras’ words, but now was trying his best to force a smile. “It’s alright really…nothing I haven’t heard before…” The royal family had always been kind to him, as had Robb Stark-though Renly suspected that came from the love their fathers had borne each other and less from any special connection with Robb himself-but other lords and ladies who would come and visit, and indeed even some of the common people of King’s Landing took offense to his presence. Robert had been quite popular once, but now anyone who saw Renly viewed him as just another reminder of his brother’s failed war.

            “You’re not you’re brother.” Margaery said kindly, sentiments Renly knew her father didn’t always share. “If we were all held accountable for the faults of our relatives no one would be innocent.”

            “Tell that to the soldiers who died at Ashford.” Loras said bitterly. In spite of their father’s victory there, the Reach had still suffered loses. And Loras knew families in other parts of the Seven Kingdoms had faired even worse.

            “Perhaps I should come back later…” Renly said sadly. “Let me know if you need help with your things…”

            “I’m sorry Lord Renly-“ Margaery began, but he was already retreating back down the hallway. She turned to her brother angrily. “Why did you do that? He was just being friendly. ”

            Loras turned back to the gardens with a small pang of guilt.

***

            Oberyn groaned in frustration. He understood the need for the Small Council-truly he did- but it was tedious work. Mace Tyrell could be grating at the best of times and Oberyn would be a fool to fully trust the Spider. Even after all he’d done for the realm there was something about the man that Oberyn just found unnerving. And to make matters worse Oberyn still had to suffer Pycelle as Grand Maester. For all his efforts the Citadel had thus far refused to replace the man. Lord Velaryon of Driftmark had happily accepted the position for Master of Ships, his strategic location and loyalty to the Crown during the rebellion made him an important ally. Even more so since the Targaryen fleet was still being rebuilt. Oberyn had appointed Tyrion Lannister to be the new Master of Coin, a position that while perhaps not best suited for his talents, was worthy of his status as heir to Casterly Rock and allowed the man to publically weigh in on matters before the Council. Of all the new appointments, it was Tyrion that had most surprised Oberyn. The dwarf’s insight was vast, and his consul had proved to be invaluable in several matters over the years.

            Oberyn trudged into his quarters and laid the thick stack of documents he was carrying on the desk. Now that he was officially Lord Protector of the Realm and Hand of the King it seemed like he had more work than ever. On Aegon’s tenth name day Oberyn had proposed the boy be officially named King, but Aegon had balked. Even with Oberyn serving as Hand and still making the majority of the decisions, the title of King still came with a certain weight to it.

“Let me be a Prince just a little longer Uncle…” Aegon had asked softly, and in that moment Oberyn was reminded of just how much the boy had been through. Oberyn would happily shoulder the burden of ruling for as long as his nephew asked him too.

Looking at the documents again Oberyn realized with a sinking feeling that he’d left one behind. Lady Lysa had sent a letter again telling of her son’s sickness and inability to travel. Thus far the council had been willing to give the Arryns some flexibility, but the letter called for closer review nonetheless. Equally worrisome, a raven from Casterly Rock had announced Cersei Lannister had given birth to another son. Five years after Oberyn assumed power Tywin had announced his plan to marry Cersei to Rodrik Greyjoy, heir to the Iron Islands. As much as the match had worried him, Oberyn had no real reason to object. Tywin had severed the crown well in those five years and to object would only give him further cause to act against the Targaryen restoration. Which, Oberyn had no doubt, was exactly what the old lion had been counting on. Thus far the union had given Lord Tywin three grandchildren, with this latest addition being number four. Oberyn supposed it would have too much to hope for the marriage to be fruitless. He sighed, resigning himself to the long walk back to the Small Council room when Daemon suddenly appeared grinning.

“I saw you left these Prince Oberyn. Thought I’d deliver them to you.”

Oberyn smiled. Daemon had graduated from being Oberyn’s squire years ago, but the man still served him in any way he could. _Well almost everyway._ Oberyn thought with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Thank you Daemon…” Oberyn paused a moment before plunging ahead. “You know Ellaria and I were just talking about you this morning. And what a handsome man you’ve grown into…”

A roguish grin swept over Daemon’s face. “Well I take that as high praise coming from the two of you…”

Oberyn chuckled. “Is that so?”

“All the women and even some of the men in the capitol want to sleep with you…” Daemon said.

Oberyn stepped around the desk so he was directly in front of Daemon, his eyes full of lust. “And what about you Daemon? Are you one of those men?”

Daemon grinned. “Do you really have to ask Prince Oberyn?”

Oberyn smiled and reached to unfasten his belt. “Close the door.”

The former squire was quick to comply the heavy wooden door swinging shut with a solid thump. Daemon twisted the key in the lock and turned back to face Oberyn already unbuckling his own belt. Once it was loosed he quickly pulled his tunic off over his head tossing the offending garment onto the floor. It flew into the adjoining room and out of sight. Daemon supposed when this was all over later he’d have to go looking for it, but for now he didn’t care.

“So how do you want to do this Prince Oberyn?” Daemon asked wolfishly.

“My way.” Oberyn’s eyes danced over Daemon’s exposed chest. The man was all muscle. He really had filled out well over the years. It was easy to see why he’d become so popular with the ladies of King’s Landing. Oberyn reached down, fishing his quickly hardening length out of his pants. His eyes locked onto Daemon’s. “Show me what you’re capable of…”

Daemon shivered with anticipation, his smile returning as he slid to his knees in front of his former master. During his tenure as Oberyn’s squire Dameon had always nursed a bit of a crush on the Prince, feelings that had only become stronger as he got older. And while over the years Daemon had seen the Prince in enough states of undress to be familiar with the impressive member between his legs, this was the first time Daemon would get to see it erect.

He reached out a hand gently gliding it along the warm shaft. Above him he could feel Oberyn watching intently. Daemon grinned and tentatively licked the head of the Prince’s cock. The soft moan of approval from Oberyn was enough to make Daemon himself painfully hard. His cock still lay trapped beneath the fabric of his pants, straining for release.

“I knew you’d be good at this.” Oberyn sighed. “Such a pretty mouth…”

Daemon laughed, causing the Prince’s slick member to fall from his lips a drop of precum dripping down his face. “Then why are we just now doing this Prince Oberyn? You could have had me years ago.”

Oberyn smiled. “While I appreciate the thought-and believe me it was tempting at times-I didn’t like the idea of sleeping with you when you were still my squire. But now that you’re officially a knight-“

“My ass is on the market is that it?” Daemon grinned.

“Something like that.” Oberyn laughed.

Daemon smirked. ‘Then by all means my Prince have at it.”

“Oh I plan to.” Oberyn grasped his cock gently tapping the head against Daemon’s check. “But in the meantime you have some work to do.”

Daemon opened him mouth to retake the Prince when Oberyn suddenly spoke again.

“Oh and Daemon?”

“Yes my Prince?”

Oberyn smiled. “I think we can drop the formalities when we’re in private yes?”

“Of course Pri-Oberyn.” Daemon said.

With that he resumed the task before him, taking as much of Oberyn’s cock down his throat as he could manage. Even so there were still several inches left exposed. Daemon had been with his fair share of men but the Prince was larger than any he’d see before. Oberyn’s flaccid member, impressive by itself, made promises it delivered on in spades when it rose to the occasion. Daemon worked it slowly sliding it back down his throat. Oberyn gave a hum of approval.

“I see you must be enjoying some of the men of King’s Landing as well as the women…”

Dameon just smirked, unable to respond to Oberyn with the massive organ down his throat. He hummed softly sending vibrations of pleasure up the shaft. Dameon kept working it slowly in and out of mouth, each time managing to take just a little more. He swore to himself that he’d take all of the Prince’s length, even it took the better part of the afternoon. Finally Daemon’s nose brushed up against Oberyn’s hips, his mouth well and truly stuffed. Daemon bobbed his head a few more times, enjoying the feel of the hard cock on his tongue. With a loud pop Daemon reluctantly pulled off of Oberyn’s cock. He brought his hand up to stroke the slick member and laughed.

“I guess I should have known that a man would need to unhinge his jaws to give head to the great Red Viper of Drone.”

Oberyn chuckled and stroked Daemon’s jaw affectionately. “Stand up.” He said softly.

Daemon did as he told quickly hopping of the floor, his eyes never leaving Oberyn’s.

“Stirp.” Oberyn said his voice heavy with lust. “I want to see you…”

Daemon grinned and slowly started unlacing his pants. As the last of the laces came undone Daemon slid his trousers and small clothes down together in one fluid motion. His own erection sprang free, flush with blood and want. Daemon finished stepping out of his pants and looked back to Oberyn.

Oberyn eyes slowly soaked in every detail of Daemon’s chiseled body. The boy was magnificent, rolls of muscle wrapped in sun kissed Dronish skin. Oberyn stepped forward and ran his fingers along Daemon’s abs. Oberyn could feel them ripple as they flexed under his touch. Oberyn quirked an eyebrow and shot Daemon an amused look.

“Showing off are we?” Oberyn asked.

Daemon said nothing. He just continued to stare straight ahead with a roguish grin.

Amused by the man’s silence -for truly seeing his impressive body exposed like this, Oberyn could scare think of him as a boy any longer-and thoroughly enjoying the display before him Oberyn continued to let his hands wander. He ran his thumb over Daemon’s nipples each in turn. Pinching the sensitive skin into firm points. Still Daemon said nothing, but Oberyn could see his cock jump with need. Daemon’s member looked to be around seven inches, a nice weapon to be sure though shorter than Oberyn’s own. The Prince licked his lips.

Oberyn reached down and ghosted a hand along Daemon’s naked thigh. He stepped around to Daemon’s back getting his first good look at man’s ass. Over the years Oberyn had snuck more then the occasional glance at the mass of muscle, appreciating the tight fitting pants his squire had always seemed fond of wearing. In retrospect Oberyn supposed the boy must have meant to present a pleasant offering. No fifteen-year-old boy was so clumsy as to need to bend over and pick things up as often as Daemon had seemed to. Oberyn grasped one of the checks and gave a firm squeeze. Oberyn could feel Daemon jump slightly at the touch but otherwise the man was silent.

“Gods if I had seen this ass of yours before properly…”Oberyn trailed off enjoying the sight before him. He laughed and gave the firm flesh a soft slap.

That finally got something out of Daemon. He snorted. “I did try and show you my Prince.”

“What did I tell you about calling me Prince?” Oberyn said a playful edge to his voice.

Daemon smiled. “Sorry sir. Old habits die hard.”

“Speaking off…” Quick as his namesake Oberyn’s hand darted between Daemon’s legs and pulled the man’s cock back. Daemon hissed in surprise, the smile never leaving his lips.

“So what are you going to do my _Prince?”_ Daemon asked.

His emphasis was obvious. Oberyn grinned. _So he wants to play…_

Oberyn pulled off his tunic, dangling it in front of Daemon’s face before letting it fall to the floor. Daemon grinned craning his neck to try and catch sight of Oberyn. Oberyn pulled back on Daemon’s cock steering the man by it like a dog on a leash. Oberyn’s bare chest was now flush up against Daemon’s back, his cock nestled between the twin globes of Daemon’s ass. Oberyn slid his hands down Daemon’s cock to his balls squeezing them not enough to cause any true pain but enough to make the man jump.

“Disobeying orders… not to mention all that time wasted with you dropping something every few minutes…I can’t even remember how many council meetings we were late too…”Oberyn said slowly working his cock between Daemon’s firm cheeks.

“Mmm…” Daemon moaned. Oberyn’s cock was driving him mad. The Prince was teasing him, brushing over Daemon’s waiting hole with each thrust. “Are you going to punish me?”

Oberyn laughed. “You have been very naughty…” He let go of Daemon’s cock and gave him a gentle shove. “On the desk.”

Daemon grinned and sauntered over to the desk. He leaned forward shoving papers out of the way as he placed his chest on the desk. Oberyn paused a moment to admire the view. From this new angle Oberyn could see Daemon’s hole, a tight ring of muscle ready and waiting to be explored. Daemon’s cock was leaking precum, pinned up against the desk. Oberyn couldn’t bother to find concern for anything on the desk with such an impressive masculine form before him. Daemon was watching Oberyn over his shoulder with a cocky grin.

“Are you going to give me what I deserve then? Cause if not I’m sure I can find some other man to-“ Daemon’s breath hitched and he groaned in pleasure as Oberyn finally sprang into action, sliding two spit slicked fingers into Daemon.

“Mmm…that’s more like it…” He moaned.

Oberyn smiled, pausing a moment only to kiss the beautiful man laid out before him. His fingers kept moving quickly to work Daemon open.

“Uhhg just give to me Oberyn…” Daemon pleaded. “ I can take it…”

“Hush love.” Oberyn whispered soothingly. “I need to prepare you.”

Daemon gave a frustrated sigh. “I said I can take it.”

“I’m a Prince Daemon. I’m larger than anything you’re used to.” Oberyn said with a smirk.

“So I’ll walk with a hitch for a few days.” Daemon smiled mischievously. “It wouldn’t be the first time…”

Emboldened by Daemon’s words and his own lust Oberyn slid his fingers out. Daemon twitched anxiously. He felt empty. He needed something now-

Dameon’s train of though was completely derailed as the head of Oberyn’s cock slowly entered him. Gods he’d dreamed of this for long. Oberyn eased himself in slowly giving Daemon time to adjust to the sheer size of the intrusion.

“Ready?” Oberyn asked in a husky voice.

Daemon nodded vigorously not trusting his voice just yet.

Oberyn grinned. “What was that?”

“Yes-gods yes. Just do it.” Daemon gasped.

Oberyn’s response was immediate. He began pumping his hips in a steady rhythm pounding away at Daemon’s taunt ass. A particularly powerful thrust made Daemon see stars.

“There…” He gasped out. “Right there.”

And gods did Oberyn listen. After finding his target he was hitting it with every deep thrust of his hips. Daemon had never doubted the man’s reputation as a lover but it was another thing entirely to be the one receiving his attentions.

“Harder Oberyn.” Daemon growled losing himself in the pleasure. “I won’t break.”

Oberyn redoubled his efforts laughing. “Tell me Daemon-am I the best you’ve ever had?

Daemon groaned but grinned nonetheless. “Gods yes. You’re going to ruin me for other men.”

Oberyn leaned forward and kissed Daemon’s shoulder his hand running up and down Daemon’s muscular back. “Is that supposed to discourage me? I’ve never been very good at sharing. Except of course with Ellaria. And you are such a pretty thing…”

Daemon was shuddering with each of Oberyn’s thrusts now. The prince’s cock was hitting him just right, stretching him more than any man he’d ever been with. Already Daemon could feel he was close, Oberyn’s skill with his cock driving him closer and closer to the edge embarrassingly quick. Daemon’s own cock was steadily leaking on the desk now, jumping with each of the prince’s thrusts.

Oberyn looked down at the man under him with lust filled eye. He could tell Daemon was close. He leaned forward again kissing his way up Daemon’s neck before stopping at the man’s ear. Oberyn’s tongue darted inside drawing a gasp from Daemon. Oberyn smiled widely and leaned closer to whisper to the man.

“Are you ready Daemon? Are you going to cum for me? Cum for your prince?”

That was all it took. With a cry Daemon’s cock erupted spraying his load over the desk beneath him. Oberyn continued his thrusting, driving the younger man through the throws of his orgasm. As Daemon’s ass clenched down around Oberyn’s cock, the prince soon found himself joining his former squire in pleasure. His cock pulsed deep inside Daemon, firing load after load as the man’s contracting muscles slowly milked Oberyn. A minute later it was over.

Oberyn kissed Daemon’s neck one more time and stood up, his rapidly deflating cock sliding out of Daemon’s hole with a wet pop. Oberyn helped Daemon roll over so his back was on the soiled desk and smiled.

Oberyn laughed. “We’re definitely doing that again.”

Daemon gave Oberyn a quick kiss and grinned wickedly. “As you say my Prince.”

Oberyn smiled his cock already twitching back to life. _Definitely again._

***

Jon sighed. There were still a few hours before the big feast was supposed to commence and he was bored. He had already finished all the reading the maester had given him, but a quick peek into Aegon’s quarters had shown his brother was still working on his own. Jon wandered down the hall to Robb’s room instead.

He found his cousin at his desk, bent over a book as well by the looks of it. Robb groaned in frustration. Jon frowned. Robb had finished his lessons yesterday and he certainly wasn’t easily frustrated.

“What are you reading?” Jon asked

Robb started-making a move to hide the book when he saw Jon. “Nothing I just-“

More curious then ever Jon made a grab for the book. Robb moved to stop him but Jon was able to duck his cousin’s arms and emerged victorious.

“Hah.” Jon laughed in triumph and looked to see what book Robb had been trying to hide. “Wait-why are you reading _The Seven Pointed Star?_

Robb blushed deeply and grabbed the book back from Jon. “No reason. I was just curious is all…”

Jon frowned and stared at Robb thoughtfully. “You worship the Old Gods. You’ve never had any interest in the Seven.”

“My mother worships the Seven.” Robb said, the excuse sounding lame even to his own ears.”

“Yeah but you’ve never…” Jon grinned in sudden realization. “This is about Tyene! You wanted to know what kind of books she liked!”

“So what?” Robb sulked.

Jon was grinning now. “So you like Tyene that’s what.”

“I do not!” Robb huffed.

Laughing Jon took a step towards the door. “Oh? Well then I guess you wouldn’t mind me telling her you’ve been asking about her and The Seven Pointed Star? I’m sure she be happy to give you some pointers-“

Robb rushed to cut Jon off. “Don’t you dare!”

Jon grinned and dashed out of Robb’s room his cousin hot on his tail.

***

Renly knocked again. After the incident with the Tyrell boy Renly figured it might be best if he moved his quarters to another part of the castle. The last thing Renly wanted to do was stir up trouble. His family had done enough of that for one lifetime already. Renly waited staring at the closed door. It was unlike Prince Oberyn to hole up in his office in the middle of the afternoon. Renly supposed the prince could be busy with work but he couldn’t hear anything though the thick door. He was just about to leave when he heard the door unlocking from the other side.

“Prince Oberyn I’m sorry if I-“ He trailed off suddenly as he realized the man in front of him was not the prince. In his surprise he noted the man was only wearing a pair of loose fitting trousers. Renly blushed and tried to keep his eyes focused on the man’s face.

Daemon grinned ruefully. “Do you need to see Prince Oberyn?”

“I-uh yes…if I could…”Renly stammered.

“He’s asleep right now I’m afraid.” Daemon winked at him. “Council meetings you know. So tedious. But I can tell him you stopped by if you like?”

Renly tried to keep his mind from jumping to just why a half naked man would be in the prince’s room if he was sleeping. “Uh-yes thank you.” he said.

Daemon tried not to smile at the poor man’s obvious confusion. “Of course.” Daemon watched him leave for a moment his mind running wild with possibilities. Daemon hadn’t missed the way the Renly’s gaze had lingered over his body. _Maybe someone should help him sort out those feelings…_ Daemon smiled yawning. An intriguing possibility. But for now he was going back to bed.

***

            King’s Landing was beautiful at night. The lights shone down from the hill like a beacon and reflected on the water’s smooth surface. Daenerys’ ship glided through Blackwater Bay trailing ripples across the calm mirror. The small waves made the cities ethereal twin seem to dance in the moonlight. Daenerys smiled. Dragonstone may be home but she loved King’s Landing just as much. Compared to most places in the Seven Kingdoms the two castles were fairly close, but even so Daenerys only seemed to visit the capitol every few months.

            A sudden breeze picked up causing Dany to shiver and pull her cloak tighter. She’d changed into a simpler dress for the journey to King’s Landing to let the necessary work be done on her silver. The dress she wore now was as black as the water, with slashes of scarlet gossamer woven thought out. When she moved the airy red fabric would twist and shimmer like a true dragon’s fiery breath. The effect was quite lovely, but the thin gossamer did make it somewhat chilling.

            Jon Connington stepped out onto the deck, smiling warmly when he caught sight of the princess. “Are you ready for the party?”

            Daenerys laughed. “I don’t know if anyone can ever be fully ready for Prince Oberyn’s parties. But I am more than ready to see everyone. Aegon promised we’d all go riding tommorow.”

            Jon Connington nodded, a sudden wave of sadness coming over him. He knew how much the princess loved her nephews-a relationship that always seemed odd given their proximity in age; Daenerys was closer to a sister to the princes. Ravens to and from the capitol were an almost daily occurrence. In the ideal world the three of them would be able to spend everyday together, growing up without concerns for safety and worries of keeping the last three members of the royal family all in one place. The princess had taken to Dragonstone very easily, in truth embracing her birthright easier than Connington himself had, but there were still days when he wished she could enjoy a normal childhood.

            “Did you need something Joncon?” Daenerys asked in a concerned voice, snapping Connington out of his train of though.

            It took him a moment to remember his reason for climbing the decks. “Yes sorry Princess. The captain just wanted me to tell you that we should be arriving in about fifteen minutes. Less probably now.”

            That brought a smile back to the princess quick enough. She turned her gaze back up to the castle on the hill. If she strained her ears she could almost imagine she was hearing the music.

***

            Loras loved a good party, and whatever concerns he might have had about coming to King’s Landing he had to admit the Lord Protector knew how to throw a party. The Tyrells had been seated at the high table with the royal family, a place of honor in front of the rest of the court. Margaery had been seated next to Prince Jon instead of Aegon he noted, likely to avoid giving anyone the idea she had a better shot at marrying Aegon than any other would be suitors. Not that the gesture would stop his father Loras knew. Their father was quite intent on having Margaery be queen and was in a good position to drive a hard bargain. But for tonight it seemed all though of politics had been laid aside.

            When his father had first told Loras and Margery about his plans to being them to King’s Landing with him, Loras had been less than thrilled. Highgarden was his home and the idea of leaving it, maybe for years wasn’t very appealing. But so far everyone in the capitol had been very welcoming. Even if Loras himself hadn’t been. He shot a quick look down to one of the lower tables. Renly Baratheon seemed to be having a pleasant enough conversation with some young lady or other. The two were laughing merrily and something about it just set Loras’ teeth on edge. _What is it about him that makes me so angry_? Loras wondered. In his heart of hearts even he knew his early outburst had been uncalled for. _So why did I do it?_

The Baratheon slipped his mind as the cooks started bringing out yet another dish. Highgarden may have been a bountiful cornucopia of food, but the cooks in King’s Landing certainly knew how to prepare it. They’d even carved some of the desserts in the shape of roses to honor the Tyrells. But more than just the food there was music and dancing, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. Loras watched Margaery pull the reluctant Prince Jon down to the dance floor, the prince looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Prince Aegon seemed to notice too and laughed at some private joke with one of the Lord Protector’s daughters, Loras couldn’t remember which. The empty chair Margaery had left on Loras’ right was quickly filled by a boy Loras didn’t recognize. He supposed he must be someone important though to be able climb to the high table. The boy was laughing.

            “I’m impressed. I’ve never seen anyone get Jon to dance before.”

            Whoever the boy was he seemed to know the prince. The overly familiar tone would imply the two were family Loras couldn’t think who-then it hit him. “You must be Robb Stark.”

            Robb smiled and extended his hand. “Guilty. I don’t think we’ve met yet. Loras right?”

            Loras shook Robb’s hand. “Yes. Nice to meet you.”

            “You too.” Robb said his eyes already turning back to his cousin. “Looks like your sister’s got her work cut out for her.”

            Back on the dance floor Loras watched the prince struggle. Robb was right. The prince was terrible. _No wonder he never dances_ Loras thought. But despite her partner Margaery was laughing and seemed to be having a good time. Even the prince had a goofy grin on his face now. Loras couldn’t help but smile. Something about Margaery just put everyone at ease. She had a way of drawing out the best in people.

            Loras realized the Stark boy was staring at him now. Probably expecting some response. “Margaery loves to dance. Maybe she can teach the prince a thing or too.”

            Robb laughed at that. “He certainly needs it…”

            “What about you?” Loras asked “Not dancing?” Throughout the night several different ladies had asked to dance with Loras, and he didn’t remember seeing Robb on the dance floor.

            Robb blushed slightly at that, his eyes darting off in the direction of the royal family. “Maybe later.”

            The song came to an end and Prince Jon bowed out gracefully, making his way back up to high table. Margaery lingered on the dance floor looking for a new partner.

            “I hear your pretty good with a sword.” Robb said. ‘We’ll have to spar sometime.”

            Loras nodded grinning at the northern boy. “I’d like that. My partners at Highgarden always struggled to keep up.”

            Robb laughed. “I like to think I could give you a challenge. The other day-“

            Loras lost track of what Robb was saying when he saw Margaery’s new dance partner. _Of course she’d pick the Baratheon._ From the looks of it Renly was a much better dancer than the prince, gliding effortlessly across the floor.

            Robb noticed Loras’ gaze and smiled. “Lord Renly’s quite popular with the women at court.” He paused for a moment studying the dancers. “He is very handsome.”

            Loras who had been taking a sip of wine at the moment, instantly regretted it. Coughing he spluttered and managed to just avoid spilling his goblet all over his new doublet.

            Robb chuckled. “Are you okay?”

            Loras looked at Robb in shock. “Why would you say that?”

            “Because I wanted to make sure you didn’t choke?” Robb said, his confusion evident.

            Shaking his head Loras tried again. “No I meant-about Lord Renly…”

            Robb turned back to study Renly. “What you don’t think he’s attractive? I generally prefer lighter hair but he has those nice blue eyes…” Against his better judgment Robb felt his eyes dart towards Tyene. She was off talking with her sisters wearing a simple golden dress that showed off her own blue eyes and blonde curls.

            “But he’s a man.” Loras said softly.

            Robb waited a moment expecting something more. “And?” He asked in confusion.

            “So how can you say he’s attractive?” Loras asked clearly baffled.

            “Prince Oberyn sleeps with half the men in King’s Landing.” Robb said with a smile. “Look I’m not saying I’d spend the night with him but I can see why the girls like him…”

            Loras turned back to watch Renly, now dancing with a different girl. His mind was running wild with Robb’s words. Loras watched the girl fawn all over Renly. _I guess he must be decent looking_ he thought. Loras blushed furiously at the idea and quickly pushed it to the back of his mind. Although somewhere a part of him was pointing just how _wrong_ Robb was about light hair looking better. Renly’s raven locks suited him perfectly.

***

            By the time Dany made it into the throne room the party was truly in full swing. The tables were being cleared away to make more room for dancing and a fool was making the rounds. Daenerys scanned the crowds looking.

            “Dany!”

            Before Daenerys could react to the happy shout she was being pulled into a tight hug. Aegon was grinning from ear to ear.

            “What took you so long? You missed the feast…” He asked.

            “There were some things on Dragonstone I had to take care of. And we had a bad wind when we finally did stat sailing.” She smiled looking over Aegon’s shoulder expectantly. “Where’s Jon?”

            “Here.” A voice from behind her answered. Jon was carrying several plates loaded with food. “I asked the kitchen to hold some things for when you got here.”

            At the sight of the food Daenerys’ stomach growled. “It looks perfect Jon. Thank you.”

            “C’mon,” Aegon said “Let’s sneak off to somewhere a little more private. You have to catch us up on Dragonstone.”

            “There’s not much to tell really. It’s been fairly quiet the past few months.” Daenerys said. “And as much as I love your idea I just got here. I feel I should at least pay my respects to the guest of honor.”

            “Guests actually. He brought two of his children with him.” Aegon looked over the crowd quickly. “But it looks like they’re all occupied right now.” He turned back to Dany with a sly smile. “I think we can steal you away for a little while.”

            Daenerys grinned and turned to help Jon with the plates. The three of them slipped out of the room, the music fading in the distance as they walked.

            “You should have been here earlier. The Tyrell girl actually got Jon to dance.” Aegon laughed.

            “Really?” Daenerys snickered and nudged Jon playfully. “How on earth did that happen?”

            “She asked me…” Jon said quietly.

            Dany and Aegon burst out laughing. Jon shot them a sullen glare, but couldn’t help the small smile the pulled at his lips. He’d missed this, the time together just the three of them. He wished Dany could visit more often.

            “What about you?” Jon asked seriously. “Are you still having the dreams?”

            Daenerys sighed as Aegon pulled open a door to small side room. “That’s a long story…”

***

            Margaery collapsed into her seat with a happy laugh, flushed and out of breath. She smiled at Loras and reached for the pitcher of water. “Aren’t you having fun? She asked.

            “Of course.” Loras said. He helped Margaery pour the water. She nodded thankfully and took a long sip.

            “The dancing here is wonderful.” Margaery said after a moment. “Almost as good as Highgarden don’t you think Loras?”

            Loras nodded. “I saw you dancing with the prince…and the Baratheon.”

            The smile slid of Margaery’s face as she rolled her eyes. “He has a name Loras…”

            “I know…” Loras mumbled.

            “And so what if I danced with him? He’s quite nice and you were very rude to him earlier.” Margaery said. “You should really apologize to him.”

            Apparently with their mother back in Highgarden Margaery had taken the mantle on for herself. “Come on Margaery…” Loras groaned.

            “I’m serious Loras.” There was the faintest trace of anger in her voice now. “Why were you even mad at him? You know full well he had nothing to do with that stupid rebellion.”

            “I don’t know…” Loras caught sight of Renly on the dance floor again and flushed. “Look I’ll talk to him after the party okay?”

            That seemed to appease Margaery somewhat. She smiled again and took Loras’ hand, squeezing gently. “Good.” She said.

            _Yes,_ Loras thought bitterly. _Just great…_

***

            “So it’s just some random corridor?” Aegon asked.

            Daenerys nodded. “Yes. The same one every time.”

            “There has to be some reason.” Jon was silent a moment. “You’re sure there’s nothing special about the corridor?”

            “Not as far I can see.” Daenerys said. “I suppose-“

            The three looked up suddenly when they heard the door creak open. Prince Oberyn stepped inside Oswald Whent at his heels.

            Oberyn smiled. “You see? I told you they’d be here. Happy and healthy by the look of things. Although next time they really should tell one of their guards where they’re going off to…”

            The three exchanged guilty looks.

            “Sorry.” Aegon said. “It was my idea. We just wanted to get away for a little bit…”

            Oberyn slid down to sit on the floor with the three children. He loved that they were so close. “Perfectly understandable. But eventually people start to notice when the princes and princess disappear.”

            Dany smiled apologetically. “We’ll head back.”

            The children made a move to pick up their plates but Oberyn shook his head. “Go ahead. I’ll clean up here.”

            “Thanks Uncle Oberyn.” Aegon said

            Oberyn watched wistfully as the three young Targaryens left the room. They really were all such good kids. As weakened as the royal family had been by the War of the Usurper, with these three as the future Oberyn had hope for Westeros. He just had to make sure they got there. He couldn’t help but think of Elia, and little Rhaenys lost all those years ago. He turned to Ser Whent with a sad smile.

            “Keep an eye on them won’t you?”

            Whent nodded already moving to the door. “Always Prince Oberyn.”

***

            It was late by the time Margaery and Loras got back to their rooms. Even so he could still see torchlight flickering out from under Renly’s door. Margaery saw it too.

            “Go on.” She said nudging him in that direction. “You said you would apologize.”

            “Right…”

            The walk to Renly’s door couldn’t have been more than a hundred feet. Even so it felt like miles. Loras was dreading this. He paused outside the door and looked back to Margaery. She motioned for him to knock. Reluctantly Loras lifted his hand and rapped on the door twice. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Margaery smile and slip into her room.

            A moment later the door opened. Renly was still wearing the black silk doublet he’d had on at the party, his dark hair and clothing making him seem almost like a shadow in the low torchlight. Except for his eyes. His eyes burned a true crystal blue even in the darkness. He looked at Loras with a mixture of confusion and dread.

            “Look-If this is about me dancing with your sister at the party-“

            “It’s not.” Loras said bluntly.

            “Oh…” Renly paused clearly even more confused. “Well good. Because she asked me.”

            “I know…” Loras was silent for a moment fidgeting under the older boys gaze. “I came here to apologize…for earlier…”

            Renly gave Loras a small smile and stepped back out of the doorway. Loras hovered in the threshold for a moment unsure of what to do.

            “You can come in.” Renly laughed.

            Loras stepped inside still feeling unsure of himself. He looked around the room. A fire was burning in the hearth. Exquisite tapestries covered one whole wall. The largest looked to be a family a tree, tracing the Baratheon house all the way back to the age of heroes. Loras studied it for a moment.

            “Storm’s End let me take whatever I wanted with me here.” Renly’s voice was quiet, scarcely more than a whisper. “I like this one to remind me of where I come from…”

            Seeing it Loras felt a fresh surge of guilt. Margaery had been right. The Baratheons, whatever their faults in recent memory came from a long line of heroes.

            “Like I said I-I’m sorry about before…” Loras muttered.

            “It’s okay.” Renly sighed. “I’ve dealt with worse…”

            Loras grimaced at his admission. “You shouldn’t have to…”

            Renly smiled sadly. “I’m used to it by now. I remind people too much of my brother…”

            Loras shifted uncomfortably, not sure what to say. “I’m sure not everyone feels that way…”

            “True.” For just a moment Renly’s tone was lighter. “The royal family’s always been good to me.”

            “All those girls too…” Loras said thinking back to the party. He could feel himself blushing and hoped to hide it in the dim light. _I must have just had too much wine_ …

            Renly laughed, not the happy melody Loras had heard at the party, but somehow sadder and a touch bitter. “They’re happy enough to flirt and dance with me to be sure…but I doubt a one of them would pursue a real relationship with me. To them I’m just a pretty face.”

            _Well they’re not wrong there_ a nagging voice at the back of Loras’ mind was quick to point out.

            “The few who would be interested just want to marry an old name…”Renly continued sadly. “That’s all I am to people. The traitor’s brother or chance for a leg up in the world…”

            Loras hated himself now for adding to Renly’s angst. He’d just been trying to be nice and Loras had bit his head off. “I don’t-I don’t think like that. Not anymore.”

            Renly smiled and clapped Loras on the back. “It’s alright really. An apology is more than I ever get from most…”

            The two stood there in silence watching the fire crackle. Loras turned to Renly watching the light from the flames dance across his face. After a moment Renly noticed his stare and smiled. “What-“

            Before Renly could finish speaking Loras suddenly kissed him, overcome by the urge even as he questioned his own sanity. But then Renly was kissing back and it was just _right._

            Renly for his part had been taken completely off guard by the younger’s boy advance, but found himself reciprocating without a second thought. He smiled as his lips fought to capture Loras’ wondering if this was how roses were supposed to taste. He reached back and ran a hand through Loras’ hair. Everything else seemed to fall away, leaving only the kiss and a single perfect moment.

            It was over all too soon, Loras pulling back with a shocked look, his cheeks flushed red with arousal and embarrassment. He backed away from Renly. “I-I shouldn’t have done that.”

            Renly smiled the warmth of the kiss seeming to radiate through his entire body. “Loras wait-“

            Loras stumbled back to the door, nearly running into the wall in his haste. “I need to go…”

            “Don’t-“ Renly started, but is was already too late. The younger boy dashed out of the door and down the hallway. Renly heard the door to the boy’s own room slam shut and sighed bitterly.

            _One step forward two steps back_ he though. _Story of my life…_

***

            The sun was still climbing in the sky as Daemon made his way through the streets of King’s Landing. Bakers were hocking their wares and children darted to and fro. On a normal day Daemon might have stopped and had something to eat, liking to support the common people of King’s Landing when he could, but today he had a different goal in mind. One of his last sparring matches had dented Daemon’s favorite sword belt and he wanted to get it fixed before the tournament Prince Oberyn was talking about having. That meant an armorer of course and in King’s landing there was no better than Tobho Mott.

            His shop was mostly empty given the early hour, Daemon only spotting an apprentice working in the back. Daemon had never seen the boy but from the look of it he was quite skilled and had likely been with Tobho awhile.

            “Is the master in?” Daemon asked. “I need him to fix something for me.”

            The boy set down the sword he’s been working on and whipped the sweat off his face. “He’ll be back in a few minutes. But I can take a look at it if you like.” The boy turned to Daemon and smiled politely giving Daemon his first good look at the boy’s face.

            The sword belt Daemon had been holding in his hands clattered to the ground. The boy had thick black hair and blue eyes. _Seven Hells…_

***

            “You’re sure?” Oberyn asked.

            Daemon nodded again. “Positive. The boy could have been Lord Renly’s younger brother.”

            “How old do you make him to be?”

            “Eleven or twelve I’d say. Hard to be sure.”

            “So definitely Robert’s then…” Oberyn sighed and slid down into his chair.

            “It looks that way sir yes.”

            Oberyn closed his eyes, his fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose as he thought. When Daemon had come to Oberyn so early in the morning he’d been hoping for something a little more fun than the discovery of another of Robert Baratheon’s bastards. Oberyn knew of two girls Robert had fathered before his death as well and had secretly made arrangements for both of them to live comfortable lives. But this boy was another problem entirely. As much it angered Oberyn a male heir, even a bastard one, would carry more weight than a daughter ever would for much of the Seven Kingdoms. And to make matters worse the boy had grown up in the capitol.

            “He’s lived here his whole life. How are we just finding him now?” Oberyn asked.

            “I don’t know…” Daemon replied. “But someone does. I don’t care how good he is he couldn’t have been placed with Tobho without someone helping him along.”

            “He does good work then?” Oberyn asked with a small smile.

            “He really does.” Daemon held up the belt for Oberyn to see. “If he keeps it up he could be better than Tobho himself someday.”

            “He just had to be at Tobho’s…” Oberyn groaned. “Half the lords and ladies who come to King’s Landing go there. Whether they admit it or not some of them will have seen him.”

            “But do we have to do anything Oberyn?” Daemon asked. “You said before you’ve made arrangements for others. The boy seems happy where he is.”

            “If we don’t sooner or later someone else will.” Oberyn said sadly. “The girls weren’t very well known. It was easy enough to give them normal lives…” he sighed. “Call the small council. We’ll need to discuss this. I suspect Lord Varys especially will have some interesting things to say…”

***

            The council took the news about as well as Oberyn had predicted. With everyone’s shouting and arguing it had taken Oberyn nearly ten minutes just to try and start a level discussion. He glared at the assembled lords. “ _Now_ can we discuss this in a civilized manner?”

            He was met with gruff muttering and a few nasty looks. But they seemed finally willing to listen. “Lord Varys how did we not know about this boy sooner?”

            “I confess Prince Oberyn that I was aware of the boy.” Varys said.

            _I’m surprised he admits it._ It had seemed unlikely to Oberyn that Varys with all his spies had been unable to find something Daemon had come across by chance, but he didn’t think the Master of Whispers would be so open in his deceit.

            “Why wouldn’t you tell us about the boy?” Tyrion asked angrily.

            “I was unsure how the council would act. It seemed safer to tuck the boy away for awhile. Though Tobho could have been smarter in how he handled the situation.” Varys replied.

            “How did this boy even come to be?” Mace Tyrell asked baffled.

            Varys gave the man a condescending smile. “As I understand it his mother worked in the palace kitchens for awhile before she moved onto some tavern. It’s likely she came across the late Lord Robert here.”

            Oberyn sighed. “You were the one to set him up with the armorer then?”

            Varys nodded. “Yes Lord Protector. The boy took an interest in it.”

            “The boy should be sent out of the city.” Mace Tyrell said. “It’s too dangerous to keep him here.”

            “We already have Renly Baratheon living in the castle.” Lord Velaryon declared, “What harm could another boy do?”

            “He should be fostered away with some lord.” Pycelle sputtered back. “I’m sure lord Tywin would-

            “What’s his name?”

            The other lords turned to Tyrion with confused looks.

            “The boy.” Tyrion repeated. “What’d his name?”

            The room fell silent. Oberyn found himself again thankful for the dwarf’s voice on the council. In all their talk of politics Oberyn had nearly lost sight of the most important thing-what was best for the boy himself.

            “Gendry.” Varys said after a moment. “The boys name is Gendry.”

            “I’d like to meet Gendry.” Oberyn said drawing the lords’ attention again. “Before I decide anything I must meet the boy.”

***

            It was just Robb and Jon on the steps of the castle today, though Ser Arthur Dayne was hovering a few paces away. They waited patiently as they saw the lone traveler making his way up the path. He had a horse and a small cart with him, and another large crate covered with a blanket. The man’s black cloak stood out sharply against the colors of the city. When he noticed the two boys waiting for him he smiled warmly.

            “Well aren’t you two a sight for sore eyes. I swear you’ve both doubled in size since I saw you last.”

            Robb grinned. “It’s been five years Uncle Benjen.”

            Benjen laughed. “Really that long eh? Come give your old uncle a hug then.”

The boys surged forward into Benjen’s waiting arms. He squeezed the boys tight and took a moment to muss their hair.

“I’ve got letters and gifts from Winterfell.” Benjen said when they finally broke away. He laughed. “They made me promise to ferry them safely. Like I’m nothing more than a bloody courier.”

“Are you here for the Night’s Watch again?” Jon asked.

“Aye.” Benjen nodded. “The Watch always needs men and Prince Oberyn reckoned with the dungeons full up there’d be men who might want to sign up.” Benjen’s eye swept past his nephews to the lone King’s Guard accompanying them. “Where is the Prince anyways? I know you southerners don’t put much stock in the Watch but I though he’d at least give me a proper greeting.”

“Another matter arose which required the Prince’s attention.” Dayne replied. “But he sent you his best.”

“I’m sure he did…”Benjen huffed. A moment later his smile returned. “But that’s alright. Since he isn’t here he can’t object to the gifts I’ve brought you. All the way from beyond the wall.”

The boys exchanged excited looks and pressed close. They watched as Benjen gently grasped the blanket covering the large crate.

“You boys ready?” he asked.

They nodded fervently, only making him smile wider. He pulled the cloth back with a flourish. Inside were two wolf cubs, but from their size it was obvious what they really were. _Direwolves!_ Jon though excitedly.

Benjen reached down and patted the pups. “I found these two abandoned on one of my rangings north. Seemed only fitting to bring them here-give you each a little piece of the North to keep with you.”

The pups were beautiful, one dark gray with golden eyes and the other almost silver with eyes the color of winter roses. The boys watched them in awe.

“Go on then.” Benjen said, clearly pleased with himself. “Pick one…”

His words had been directed at both boys, but years of growing up with a prince for a cousin had conditioned Robb to wait for Jon to choose first. He looked to Jon expectantly. Jon shook his head and motioned for Robb to pick. He hated always being favored over his cousin.

As Robb reached into the crate the gray perked up, nipping gently at the approaching hand. Robb grinned and scooped him up. The wolf gave a soft yelp of surprise but quickly calmed when Robb began stroking his ears.

“That’s the boy there.” Benjen said. “Which leaves the girl for Jon.”

When he turned back to the crate he saw Jon had already picked up the silver wolf, and was watching her with rapt attention as he stroked her back. Benjen couldn’t help but smile.

“So-who’s the best uncle ev-“ He was cut off as the boys pulled him a tight embrace.

“Thank you.” Robb said.

“Thank you _so_ much.” Jon echoed a moment later.

***

The gold cloaks escorted Gendry into the throne room in silence. Tobho had said it was okay when they’d come to collect him, likely privy to why it was they wanted him Gendry supposed. The gold cloaks hadn’t said anything the whole way up to the Red Keep even when Gendry asked them why the Lord Protector wanted to see him. _Maybe they don’t know either_ Gendry thought. He couldn’t think of anything he’d done that would warrant having to go before the Lord Protector. As far as he knew Gendry hadn’t broken any laws at all.

The great double doors opened and Gendry was ushered inside. Prince Oberyn was on the throne, a single Kingsguard to his left. Otherwise the room was empty.

“Thank you for coming.” Oberyn said.

“It didn’t seem like I had much choice…” Gendry responded meekly, his eyes flicking to the gold cloaks. “But my master said it would be alright…”

Oberyn grimaced and nodded. “I apologize for their manner. Believe it or not they were for your own protection.” He moved to face the gold cloaks. “Leave us please.”

Gendry stood silent as the city watch filled out the heavy wooden doors booming shut behind them. Something was strange here. He’d never heard a lord let alone a prince apologize to a lowly smith. He eyed Oberyn curiously.

The prince smiled. “You must be wondering why you’re here.”

He nodded.

“What did your mother ever tell you about your father?” the prince asked.

_His father…_ Gendry shrugged. “Not much your grace…he died before I was born.”

A shadow seemed to pass over the prince’s face at that. “Yes” he said softly “That he did…”

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet…” the prince gestured to the Kingsguard and he moved to open the King’s door. A man with black hair and blue eyes walked in. _He looks like me._ Gendry would have to be blind not to see the resemblance. The prince stayed silent a moment studying Gendry’s reaction. “This is Lord Renly Baratheon…”

Now Gendry was truly confused.

“His eldest brother was the late Robert Baratheon, and as near as we can tell…your father.”

Gendry was speechless. _My father was a Lord?_ It took a minute to find his voice. “I’m sorry-I-I don’t understand…”

It was Renly who answered. “You’re my nephew. One of the last living Baratheons.”

“But I’m a bastard…” Gendry said puzzled.

“Something which carries very little weight with me.” The prince was eying him carefully. “There are those in my council who would like any number of things for you. But for now I want to hear what you want.”

“Your Grace?”

“If you could choose any path for yourself what would you want? I can offer you an education and a place to live. But only if you want it.“

A life on the streets had taught him there was always a catch. Gendry sighed. “Where would I go then? Some far away place?”

The prince smiled. “You would have a place here, in the castle. Should you want it.

Gendry was floored. He’d never even dreamed such a possibility. There was just one thought nagging at the back of his head. “I-would I still be able to work with Master Tobho?”

“Of course.” Prince Oberyn said. “There’s no reason that can’t be arranged.”

“Then yes.” Gendry said, barley containing a wave of enthusiasm. “Yes I’ll stay in the castle.”

***

Pycelle was furious. The boy, Gendry, would have been the perfect political tool but the damned Viper had gone and snatched him up. Last Pycelle had seen Renly had been taking his new nephew on a tour of the castle. The old maester wrenched open his door and grabbed a quill and paper. He needed to notify Lord Tywin of all of this. It was getting harder and harder lately to report to him, but Pycelle still did what he could.

He locked his door and began quickly drawing up the letter. _The bastard’s been secured by the Viper. He seems to have won the boy over. I will do what I can to-_

Pycelle paused thinking. _What could he do?_ A dangerous idea quickly took root. _Yes._ He thought. _If I can act quickly…_ Pycelle ended the letter and hastily sealed it climbing the stairs to the rookery as fast as he could. When the letter was tied to a raven’s a leg and the bird safely into the distance he had a moments peace.

_Now comes the hard part…_

***

Moving from Flea Bottom to the grandeur of the Red Keep was overwhelming. Gendry had been able to gather up his few belongings himself and move them into his new quarters. He’d been given a room just around the corner from Renly. Renly seemed nice enough, and Gendry was excited by the idea of having a family again but it was all just too much. Renly’s quick tour while nice, had left Gendry even more confused, and completely incapable of finding his room again. He was just wandering the halls now, taking in the sights and hoping to find someone he could ask for directions.

“Are you lost?”

Gendry turned to see an older man in an all gray robe, the collar at his neck identifying him as a maester. Gendry smiled in relief. “Yes. I’m sorry it’s all just so new. Could you help me? I thought I knew my back but I think I took a wrong turn…”

“I’d be happy to help.” The man said eagerly. “In fact I was just looking for you. Prince Oberyn asked me to check up on you. Make sure you’re in good health. I’m on way to the stables now to check on one of the horses but if you come with me I’d be happy to show you to your room on the way back and we can get you all checked out.”

Years of living in the slums of King’s Landing had given Gendry a keen survival instinct, but that was supposed to be behind him now. This maester worked for Prince Oberyn the man responsible for his huge change in fortune. If the maester needed to examine him then Gendry was more than willing to comply. “Sure.” Gendry said trying his best to sound polite. “Thank you Maester…” He paused realizing he hadn’t actually heard the man’s name.

“Pycelle.” The man said with a smile. “Grand Maester Pycelle.”

***

The boy was quiet as they walked to the stables. Pycelle was moving as fast as he dared, anxious to reach his goal but just as keen to not attract attention. Pycelle had managed to arrange it so Lord Renly was called away suddenly, leaving the bastard boy temporarily alone. Then it had just been a matter of signaling a few guards who still owed debts to the Lannisters. By the time Pycelle and his young charge made it to the stables five armed guards were already saddling horses. Everyone else, even down to the stable boys had been cleared out.

Pycelle’s eyes flicked to the bastard nervously but he didn’t yet know enough about palace life to realize how strange the scene before him was.

“Which horse is sick?” Gendry asked.

“The one on the end.” Pycelle said hoping the boy knew as little about horses as he did about the palace. He reached into the pocket of one of sleeves drawing out a small vial.

Gendry walked up to the horse. “What’s wrong with it? It looks okay to me…”

In answer Pycelle uncorked the vial and thrust it under the boy’s nose. He teetered and then collapsed with a groan.

“Quickly!” Pycelle said motioning to the guards. “He’ll be out for a few hours but we have no time to waste.”

Two of the guards grabbed Gendry and tossed him into a cart they had hitched to one of the horses. Another guard threw a tarp over it, hiding the boy from view. The guards mounted up ready to ride off with their precious cargo only to discover the exit to the stable barred.

Arthur Dayne stood in the middle of the doorway the great sword Dawn gleaming in his hands. Prince Jon and Robb Stark stood behind the Kingsguard wolf pups snarling in their arms.

“What’s going on here Pycelle?” Dayne asked, making no effort to hide his anger.

“M-My lord I fear there’s some sort of misunderstanding-“ Pycelle sputtered.

“Let the boy go.” Dayne growled.

The guards Pycelle had recruited for his task stepped forward one by one drawing their swords. Pycelle ducked behind them his maester’s chain rattling as he shivered nervously.

“Stand aside Dayne.” The lead guard demanded. “There doesn’t need to be any blood shed here today.

Arthur Dayne smiled sadly. “You know I can’t do that…”

“So be it.”

The guards charged, five against one. Even so Dayne had cut down one of their number before the others could join the fray. He moved with an almost unnatural grace dueling the four men at once. He parried a slash from one guard and with a quick flick of his blade pushed the man’s sword into one of his comrade’s neck. As the cut man slowly bleed out Dayne dispatched his ally with a twist of his sword before the man could dislodge his own blade from his friends neck. The two remaining men backed off, discouraged by the swift deaths of their companions. They circled Dayne slowly looking for an opening.

On some unspoken signal they charged together, trying to flank the Kingsguard on both sides. With a small pivot Dayne dodged them both swinging Dawn around in a high arc. The blade struck the mens’ helms with a solid clang, and in their ensuing disorientation Dayne felled them each with a quick thrust of his sword. Before the last man had even fallen Dayne was moving on to Pycelle.

Pycelle collapsed helplessly next to the cart, arms raised in defeat. Dayne brought Dawn to bear against the man’s throat, the milky white blade still dripping blood. “Now Grand Maester-I’ll ask again. What’s going on here?”

“W-was going to transport the boy. Out of the city…”

“Where?” Dayne asked.

Pycelle was overcome by a fit of coughing. “That hardly matters now does it?”

Arthur Dayne glared at the man. “What did you give the boy?”

“J-just some vapors. He’ll be fine I assure you-“

“Wake him. Now.”

“O-of course ser.” Pycelle threw back the tarp. He fumbled around inside his robes before fishing out another vial. Before he could open it Dayne pressed the tip of Dawn flush to Pycelle’s neck, the sharp blade drawing tiny beads of blood. “I warn you maester-no tricks. I can take your head off before any of your herbs or potions could take effect.

Pycelle looked suddenly guilty and stole a glance at the vial in his hands. “Heh I grabbed the wrong one. How silly of me.” He gave Dayne a panicked look. “Forgive me ser.”

“An honest mistake I’m sure.” Dayne said his voice rich with sarcasm. “Just wake the boy.”

This time Pycelle pulled out the leaf of some herb. He broke it in half and held it under Gendry’s nose. After a moment Gendry gagged and sputtered before waking up with a start.

“Gah!” He jumped back nervously at the sight of Pycelle over him.

Dayne motioned to Jon and Robb who hurried forward. “It’s alright son. Your safe now.” He turned to Jon and Robb. ‘Take him to Maester Sefren. Make sure he’s okay.”

Jon and Robb set their wolves down and helped Gendry out of the cart. He took an experimental step forward and nearly collapsed.

“Whoa-“ Robb surged forward wrapping one of Gendry’s arms around his neck. “Easy there.”

Jon took up Gendry’s other arm. “Just take it one step at a time.”

Bit by bit the two were able to help Gendry back to the castle the wolf pups trotting along right at their heels.

Dayne watched them go then turned back to Pycelle. “Now Grand Maester-I think you and I need to have a conversation with Prince Oberyn…”

***

Several hours later it seemed they were still hammering out the details of Pycelle’s attempted kidnapping.

“…so as best we can tell he meant to ship the boy off somewhere. Most likely to my father though we’ve found no evidence to confirm that and Pycelle himself refuses to implicate the great Tywin Lannister.” Tyrion said. Oberyn had briefed the small council as soon as Arthur Dayne came to him and between Varys and Tyrion they had been able to peace together enough of Pycelle’s plan to get an idea of what he hoped to accomplish.

“Using the boy to try and rally the houses of the Stormlands against us would never have worked. Regardless of what they might have felt for Robert the boy is still a bastard. Renly remains Robert’s heir.” Mace Tyrell replied.

Oberyn shook his head. “You place too much faith in whether an heir is true or base born. The boy is still Robert Baratheon’s son. Pycelle would have found followers.“

“Be that as it may we’ll be needing a new Grand Maester.” Tyrion said. We could try and promote one of the other’s already in the capitol someone we liked, but typically the Citadel likes to handle these matters themselves.”

“So we’ll let the Citadel handle it.” Oberyn said. “With our advice of course.” He laughed. “I’ve been trying to think of ways to oust Pycelle for years and here he goes and does it for me. I think that makes one time in eleven years that he’s actually been of service…”

            Tyrion smiled. “I’m sure he’s been of more use to my father in that time. There’s no telling what he’s told the man.”

            Oberyn nodded. “I’ve tried to keep out of anything too important but you’re right we’ve always known he acted for Tywin.” He sighed and poured a glass of wine. “Here’s to hoping the next Grand Maester serves us half as well as that old fool did your father.”

***

Renly looked up at the knock on his door. It was open, but even so the boy was hovering outside it.

“Can I come in?” Loras asked.

Renly nodded.

Loras stepped inside and shut the door. He paused unsure of himself.

Renly sighed. “Look about before-“

“I heard about Gendry.” Loras said cutting Renly off quickly. “He’s your nephew right?”

“The son of my traitor brother yes.”

“But you like him?” Loras asked.

Renly shrugged. _Why were they talking about this?_ “He seems nice enough. I don’t really know him all that well just yet. Loras-“

Loras keep wandering around Renly’s room, looking anywhere but at the man he had come here to see. “Where is he now?”

“With Maester Sefren. He’ll make a full recovery from whatever Pycelle used on him but Sefren wanted to keep him for observation just to be safe…”

Loras nodded still avoiding Renly’s gaze.

Renly rolled his eyes. “Look Loras we have to talk about-

“I’m sorry.” Loras said quickly. “Sorry I uh-sorry I kissed you. I had too much wine at dinner and I don’t know what I was thinking. I-“

“Stop.” Renly said gently. Loras quit pacing and finally met Renly’s gaze the poor boy looked terrified. “Are you really sorry?”

Loras scowled. “ I just said I was-“

“That’s not what I mean.” Renly spoke slowly not wanting to scare the boy anymore than he already was. “Do you really regret kissing me?”

Loras was silent his eye dropping down to the floor.

Renly took a deep breath. “Because I have to say-I don’t. I liked it. Kissing you. And I’d like to do it again. And keep doing it for that matter. But only if you want to.” He paused, but hearing no response from Loras plunged on. “If not feel free to go back to the way things were between us-you hating me and me ignoring you.”

Loras was quiet for a long time. When he finally did speak his voice was barely more than whisper. “No…”

“What?” Renly asked, hoping against hope, but unsure just what Loras was responding to.

“No I-I don’t regret kissing you.” Loras mumbled.

A wave of relief and joy seemed to wash over Renly. He took two long deliberate steps towards Loras and smashed his lips against the younger boy’s. Loras hesitated only a moment before returning the kiss with gusto. His hands wove into Renly’s hair, loving every moment, at a loss to why he ever doubted this. They stumbled backwards lost in the moment-and proceed to slam right into the heavy wooden post of the bed.

Renly broke away rubbing the back his head painfully. “Ouch…”

Loras tried to smile. “You okay?”

Renly laughed. “I think so.” then feeling suddenly bold “…kiss it better?”

“You’re too tall.” Loras chuckled.

“I can fix that…” Renly grinned and sat down on the bed, tilting his head to offer it to Loras. The smile slid off his face as he saw Loras eye the bed nervously. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just-I’ve never-“ Loras began coyly.

“It’s okay.” Renly assured him. “Me either.”

That seemed to brighten Loras’ spirits. He gave Renly a confused smile. “Never? But all those girls-“

Renly snorted. “It may have become clear to you that girls aren’t exactly interesting to me.”

“But I am?” Loras asked with a grin.

“Yes.” Renly said simply. “You are.” He held out a hand for Loras to join him on the bed. Loras took it tentatively. The two boys were now eye to eye. “We’ll go slow…if you want to I mean-“

Loras ran his fingers over Renly’s doublet feeling the smooth silk and the hard muscle underneath. “I want to.”

Renly laid back on the bed and gently pulled Loras down on top of him. He kissed Loras pulling the boy close. Renly could feel himself beginning to harden in his pants, and was about to apologize when he felt an answering bulge from Loras.

“So…” Renly gasped slightly out of breath “How far do you want to take this? Right now I mean…”

Loras’ hand reaching for Renly’s belt was all the answer he needed. Loras sat up pulling his doublet off and tossing it on to the floor. Renly was quick to follow suit and soon both boys were down to their small clothes.

“Together?” Loras asked nervously.

Renly nodded.

Growing up in noble houses both boys had been naked in front of servants, seamstresses, and the like before but this was all together different. Renly paused a moment to take in all of Loras. He was very well muscled for his age, and given his love of sword play and tournaments Renly had no doubt he’d only add to his impressive physique as he got older. Seeing another boy’s erect cock was a first for Renly, and yet being with Loras like this just felt so right. Loras looked to be a bit smaller than Renly, probably around only five inches if he had to guess, but Renly had no doubt he’d be growing there too.

Loras for all his nervousness, was no less bold in staring at Renly. He was bigger than Loras everywhere he looked-all muscle, defined and firm. And between his legs was an impressive length. “Can I-“

Renly nodded.

Loras reached out, running a tentative hand along the older boy’s cock. Renly gasped, jumping slightly at the sudden sensation. Renly’s own hand was no stranger to his cock, but Loras’ was another level of sensation all together. His hands were completely smooth, save for the odd callus or two on his sword hand. The unfamiliar fingers dancing along his length were already making Renly shiver, and he knew that if this kept he’d finish sooner rather than later.

He groaned and pulled the younger boy into a deep kiss, their bodies pressing together with earnest. Loras still had his hand around Renly’s cock and Renly could feel Loras pressing into his side. Loras’ hips seemed to be moving on their own, rutting up against Renly as the Tyrell boy lost himself in pleasure.

It was all over in just a few minutes. Renly heard Loras gasp, and felt the younger boy shudder as he spilled his seed all over Renly’s toned stomach. Renly could feel the familiar tingling as his own body tensed up, and came just a moment later. The two boys laid together like that for awhile, panting and sticky. Finally Renly smiled and brushed a curl back behind Loras’ ear.

“I guess this mean we’re friends now?”

Loras laughed, warm, heartfelt and somehow freeing. Completely different than anything Renly had seen from the boy so far. But seeing the cheerful grin on Loras’ face and the happy twinkle in his eyes Renly found himself never wanting to look away from the boy for fear of missing this beauty should it appear again.

***

Dragonstone was asleep, even the great stone dragons covered in shadows. After the debacle with the Grand Maester, Oberyn had felt it would be wise if the heirs were out of the capitol for awhile, somewhere less accessible but just as secure. The princes had been only too happy to spend some more time with their aunt, but Daenerys had sensed the seriousness of the situation when she saw Jon Connington’s face. The boys were fast asleep now up in their chambers, but Daenerys found herself unable to close her eyes.

She navigated the corridors in silence, nodding occasionally when she saw a guard. She’d had the dream again on the journey to Dragonstone, and whatever it was that called to her seemed stronger than ever. Dany rounded a corner and came face to face with the patch of wall that had so dominated her mind of late.

A shift in the clouds spilled moonlight down the hall, seeming to make the stone dragons dance in the pale light. Daenerys ran her hand gently along the dappled scales. _What is it about this place…_

“Gah!” Daenerys cried out, a sudden pain pulling her from her thoughts. Three of her fingers were bleeding. She looked closer at the dragon. One of the scales closest to the wall had concealed a jagged point. The blood it had drawn from Daenerys’ hand spilled down into the groves between the scales, seeming to almost paint the beast red like its brother on the banners over the castle.

Dany could hear the pounding of armor on stone as a guard ran around the corner.

“Princess are you-“

“Shh!” Daenerys moved closer to the wall straining to hear. There was sound coming from inside the wall. The guards approach had masked it at first but now she was sure. Suddenly the stone dragon shifted-sliding down the wall with a bang. With the dragon in its new position a portion of the castle wall swung open, revealing a door, hidden previously by the pattern of the stone.

“Princess what-“

Daenerys stepped through the door before the guard could finish. She had been dreaming about this door for so long, and now here it was finally in front of her. The door lead to a small darkened staircase that twisted down. Dany could feel heat rising as she descended. She reached to touch the wall using it to help find her way in the dark. This side of Dragonstone built was closest to the volcano, and as she went deeper Daenerys could feel the stone of the wall starting to change from the smooth black stones of the castle to a rougher more hewn feel. _This passage must lead down into the mountain…_

Finally the staircase came to and end. In the dark Daenerys couldn’t make out much. There appeared to be some sort of large opening in front of her, likely a room of some sort but she couldn’t be sure. She could hear the heavy footfalls of the guard following her. And then she hard another noise, soft at first, but becoming more distinct. The sound from her dreams-so much like crying.

“Hello?” Daenerys called out.

A small burst of light erupted in the middle of the room. Daenerys caught flashes of metal-swords maybe-and something else. There were things moving in the darkness. Moving towards her.

The guard finally made it down the stairs a torch in his hand. He glowered at Daenerys.

“Don’t do that again Princess. If anything were to happen to you-“ He broke off as he saw the room in front of him. “What is this place..?”

The light from the torch was only enough to illuminate part of the room, if the echoes were anything to judge by it seemed to stretch back much further. Piled around the walls of the room were all manner of armaments and wealth. Shields and swords, jeweled crowns and scepters, and more coins than Daenerys could count. A cry from the darkness-almost plaintive this time stole her attention.

The guard had drawn his sword she saw and was staring into the dark nervously. “Stay back Princess…”

Daenerys shook her head and took a few cautious steps forward, pulled by some force she couldn’t explain. The guard moved to follow her. She motioned for him to halt.

“It’s alright.” She said softly. “They won’t hurt me…”

Her assurances did little to calm to the man’s nerves. “What won’t Princess?”

Daenerys didn’t answer. She kept walking, kneeling when she reached the edge of the torches light.

“It’s alight…” She reached out a hand. “You can come out…”

There was a noise-almost as if in answer-and three small creatures made their way out of the darkness. They couldn’t have been much bigger than kittens, their scales reflecting the torchlight and scattering it along the walls. The largest of the three cooed softly and tentatively rubbed its head against Daenerys’ hand.

Daenerys was in awe.

_Dragons…_

***

Jon Connington was pacing around the Painted Table anxiously. With the discovery of the ancient vault and the three infant dragons a hasty council meeting had been assembled. The Grand Maester was obviously not present, and Prince Oberyn had already left on a journey to Oldtown by the time the discovery was made. That left just Mace Tyrell and Monford Velaryon, Varys, plus the Imp who Connington trusted not a bit. Regardless of what Prince Oberyn saw in him the man was still a Lannister.

The four of them were sitting around the table. Tyrion was tracking Connington as he walked his eyes full of disdain.

“Do you plan to join us my Lord or do you wish simply to wear the floor smooth?”

Jon sighed and pulled out a chair, glaring at the half man.

“What I don’t understand…” Mace Tyrell began “Is how this vault was hidden in the first place.” He turned to Connington. “Surly a man should know the castle he is charged with guarding.”

“We searched the entire place when we rooted out the rebels.” Jon sighed. “And I must have been by the place a hundred times since the Princess started dreaming of it. Nothing would have suggested it was there.”

Lord Velaryon frowned. “Then how was it the Princess came to discover it?”

“Near as we can tell it was her blood that did it. The wall reacted to it somehow. I had one of my men try to open it again later and nothing happened. It seems to only work for her.”

“The Princess and her two nephews more than likely.” Tyrion said. “Their ancestors were well acquainted with blood magic. It stands to reason they be able to make a lock such as only they could open.”

Varys cut in suddenly. “I can’t help but notice Lord Connington that in all your mentions of this vault you’ve said nothing of what part of the castle it’s actually in.”  

Jon frowned. “Nor will I. I called you all here to discuss what to do about it not reveal the secrets of this castle.”

“…And yet you said you had own men search it and even attempt to access it on their own.” The Spider continued. Do you mean to say you trust your garrison here more than the lords before you?”

“Every man here proved his loyalty ten times over during the rebellion.” Jon growled. “The same couldn’t be said of everyone at this table.”

His answer, if not his tone seemed to please Varys, but he couldn’t imagine why. Tyrion was glowering at Jon now, having clearly caught his meaning.

Lord Monford cleared his throat awkwardly. “Speaking of the rebellion-does it not seem strange that the Mad King would leave such an arsenal untouched?” He turned to Jon skeptically. “Your reports seem to indicate several pieces are made of Valyrian steel.”

It was Varys who answered. “I assure you King Aerys never knew of such a vault. As you rightly point out he would have used the steel… And the other treasures.”

The eunuch’s tone made it clear he knew exactly what else Daenerys had found in the vault. _He has his damned birds everywhere…_ Some of the others had clearly caught something in Varys tone as well. Tyrion turned to Jon resentfully.

“What aren’t you telling us?” He demanded.

Jon sighed bitterly. He’d intended to try and keep the dragons under wraps until he had a chance to consult with Prince Oberyn. Thus far his raven had gone unanswered. As troubling as that was, it comforted him to know that only the Prince would be able to read it. Years ago, when Jon Connington had first taken his post at Dragonstone, Oberyn had seen to create a code for the two of them to use in case the need for private communication arose. They had employed it only a few times in his tenure, but Jon had never been happier to have it then he was now. Still, without a response from the Prince he would need to make a decision on his own. Varys had forced his hand. He would have to tell the council. Though in truth if the eunuch had spies within the castle walls there was no telling who else might have as well.

“Several dozen dragon eggs were also found in the vault…” Jon began careful to watch the lords for reactions. “…as well as three hatchlings.”

_That_ got a response. The room erupted as the lords all clamored to talk at once.

“How is this possible-?”

“Where are they now?”

“Why didn’t-“

Jon slammed his fist down, hard enough to silence the lords and shake the table. The table showing the world of Westeros in the days of the Aegon the Conqueror. The first dragon King.

“The dragons are with the children. Where they belong.”

Mace Tyrell frowned. “Are you sure that’s wise-“

“Three dragons hatching for three new heirs to the throne. It would be hard to miss the symbolism in that Lord Tyrell.” Tyrion said, all but rolling his eyes. “I believe on this I have to side with Lord Connington. The children seem meant to have them.”

That brought a chorus of nods from around the table.  

“An auspicious nod to the future.” Velaryon agreed.

Jon breathed a quiet sigh of relief. For now at least things were in hand. _What is this world coming to?_ He wondered. _Dragons and now I’m being supported by Tyrion Lannister of all men. These are strange times indeed…_

***

Dany, Jon and Aegon were lounging around in one of the castle’s larger solars. Jon Conington has asked the three to stay together, and to keep the dragons out of sight as much as possible. In truth he needn’t have bothered. The children were as fascinated by the hatchlings they were by their new charges.

When Dany had brought them up from the vault the three dragons had each almost instantly cleaved onto one of the children. The largest of the three, covered in black scales had taken an immediate liking to Dany. The red had chosen Aegon, and the third a cool steel blue had gravitated towards Jon. Dragonstone’s maester had been brought in to examine the dragons, a move that had clearly made Jon Connington nervous, but something he insisted on nonetheless. As far as the maester could tell the three were in perfect health, having only recently hatched from the stockpile of eggs. As to how or why dragons had returned after so long he had no idea.

Jon was lounging on a bed his dragon resting comfortably on his chest, his wolf pup snuggled up next to his face. The dragon gave a small puff of smoke and the wolf yipped playfully. Jon smiled and stroked her ears.

“It’s alright Lya…”

Aegon gave Jon a curious look. “Lya?”

Jon blushed uncomfortably under his brother’s gaze. “For my mother…I thought it sounded like a nice name.”

Aegon smiled sadly. “I think it’s perfect.”

Jon was quiet for a moment; running his hand along the smooth scales of his dragon. “I was thinking of naming him Rhaegal…for father.”

Aegon turned to the red dragon curled up at his feet thoughtfully. “…He’ll be Elainyes…for both the mother and sister that I lost.”

“And my black will be Rhallin. For my own mother…” Daenerys said.

The three were silent for a moment lost in memories of the past.

Finally Daenerys spoke, in barely more than a whisper. “Three dragons to honor our family-and to live the lives they were denied.”

***

Oberyn scanned the letter again before shredding it into several pieces and tossing it in the flames. Connington had used their private code but one could never be too careful. Especially in a place like this. On his way to the Citadel Oberyn had stopped off at a local brothel, an old favorite of his. And while such a place might put a man’s body at ease Oberyn knew far better then to let his mind go lax. He rose from his chair and pulled on a robe before quietly making his way down the stairs, careful not to wake the two women in the bed. The three of them had enjoyed quite a long night together.

When he reached the brothel’s first floor he found it mostly empty. It was still early so the wasn’t terribly surprising. The sun was just beginning to climb in the sky, and were it for not for Connington’s letter Oberyn might still be sleeping himself. As it was he felt restless. His stomach growled and he was reminded just how long it had been since he’d eaten. Unfortunately the early hour would make finding decent food somewhat difficult. The local bakers and fishers would just be beginning their work. Oberyn sighed and sat down in one of the chairs, resigning himself to wait. His thoughts were just turning back to the letter when a creaking door caught his attention.

A boy was slipping out of one the rooms. Looking at him Oberyn knew he couldn’t be much older than his nephews. _Too young to be working in a place like this_ he though sadly. He knew that was the way of things though, there were all manner of cravings and depravities in the worlds and a greedy brothel set out to cater to all of them.

The boy gave a start when he saw Oberyn. Oberyn smiled kindly and tried to put the lad at ease. There was no telling what he’d been though.

“Would you happen to know of a place to get food this early?” Oberyn asked. “It’s been several years since I’ve been to the city and things have changed a great deal since then…”

The boy was silent. He stood frozen his eyes studying Oberyn quizzically.

“Do I frighten you boy? There’s no need for that.”

The boy shook his. “No my lord.”

Oberyn grinned. “He speaks. Tell me what makes you think I’m a lord boy?”

“I know what lords look like…” The boy said quietly. He paused for a moment before speaking up again. “You’re from Dorne aren’t you?”

The piqued Oberyn’s interest. Dornish looks may have been easy enough to pick out but this boy couldn’t have seen too many Dornishmen in Oldtown. The average sailor and trader could never afford the prices in this brothel. And there had been something in the boys voice when he spoke…

“Why do you ask?”

The boy shrugged unconvincingly. “I just heard some men talking…”

_That_ set off a few alarm bells in Oberyn’s head. “And what might these men have been saying?”

The boy eyed him nervously, but he’d clearly been taught to never disobey a client in this place. “They’d just come from King’s Landing. They were talking about the Grand Maester. One of them was saying the Hand of the King would want to help pick the new one…You’re him aren’t you? Prince Oberyn?”

Oberyn smiled. The boy was clever. Hearing some idle gossip was one thing but being able to piece it together took more work. He decided to test him. “Why would you say that?”

“You’re Dronish nobility but I haven’t heard of any Dornish ships in port at the moment…and you said you been to Oldtown before. The Prince used to study at the Citadel…And this is the closest brothel to there. If the Prince did come he’d want to stay close by to be able to monitor the choosing of the next Grand Maester.”

There was something monumentally cruel in fate to put a clever, inquisitive boy in place like this, with the shadow of the great learning at the Citadel looming just out of reach. _A mind like his shouldn’t be wasted in a place like this._ Oberyn thought sadly.

“What’s your name boy?” he asked kindly.

“They call me-“The boy seemed uncomfortable for a moment. “Satin my lord. My name is Satin…”

“Tell me Satin…what do you think of maesters?”

Satin gave Oberyn a puzzled look. “What?”

“What do you think about maesters?” Oberyn repeated.

“I-we don’t see many maesters here my lord…”

Oberyn was sure that was a lie, but didn’t push the boy on it.

“But well…I guess they’re nice enough. Sometimes if I’m good they’ll bring me books… “

The seven only knew what good would mean to a maester in this place.

“But you like the books?”

Satin nodded.

Oberyn paused to think a moment. “Tell me Satin-would you want to leave this place?”

“I can’t my lord. My mother she worked for Bess too and owed her money. So I have to pay it off-“

“But you would if you could?” Oberyn asked kindly.

Satin nodded meekly.

“Where would I find Bess this time of day?”

The boy pointed to the back room nervously.

Oberyn smiled. “Go gather up whatever thinks you want to take with you. I’ll be just a moment.”

With that Oberyn stood and made his way to the room Satin had indicated. The door was locked, but the wood was old and worn smooth. With a well-placed shove the door broke free of the latch. A large woman-who could only be Bess-was passed out over a desk. In her youth Bess might have been pretty, even perhaps worked in a place like this herself, but the years had not been kind. Several liver spots had formed on the left side of her face, and the woman’s indulgences in food and wine had left her with a portly figure. Oberyn kicked her chair.

“Whha?” Bess’s head popped up and she looked at Oberyn through confused bloodshot eyes. “S’happened to the door?”

“It broke.” Oberyn said brusquely. “The boy Satin, what debts does he owe you?”

Bess swayed unsteadily. “What boy?”

Oberyn was quickly losing his patience with the women. “Satin.”

“Oh…oh…s’owes my fifty dragons that one. Blasted mother stole my-“

“I’ve seen the boy. He’s clearly doing good business for you.”

The woman nodded “S’true but he needs to pay me back from his cut of the coin he earns…”

Biting back a bitter retort Oberyn reached into his pocket. He quickly counted out some coins and slammed them down on the table.

“Take sixty dragons. But the boy is free to go.”

Bess nodded quickly and snatched a hand out to grab the coins. Oberyn caught her wrist before she could reach.

“Let me hear you say it.”

“S’fine. The boys free to go. Never liked him much anyways…”

Oberyn sighed and stepped back into the hall before he did something he would regret. He walked the short distance back to the main room and found Satin waiting there for him. The boy was holding a battered old book and a small pack which couldn’t have held more than a few sets of clothing.

“Is that everything?” Oberyn asked

Satin nodded. “Is she really going to let me go?”

“She is.” Oberyn smiled. “Come on.”

Oberyn opened the door into the street and Satin fell in behind him silently. The street was empty letting the two make good time. When they arrived at the Citadel the boy paused nervously.

“My lord I’m not sure-“

Oberyn opened the heavy doors and motioned Satin inside. “Trust me son.”

After a brief pause Satin nodded and stepped in through the door. He had just a moment to take in the grandeur of the hall around him before Oberyn was motioning him down a side hallway. The prince stopped when they reached a room with a lone man sitting behind a large desk. The desk was piled high with papers. The man looked up when they walked in, shooting the pair a disdainful look.

“Prince Oberyn I told you yesterday the Conclave-“

“I’m not hear about that.” Oberyn grinned slyly. “For the moment at least.”

The maester behind the desk-Satin could see his chain now-glared at Oberyn. “Then how can I be of service your Grace?”

“You can admit this boy into training.”

The maester turned his attention to Satin now, his eyes barely containing his loathing. “And what would this boy know of wanting to become a maester?”

Under the man’s gaze Satin found himself suddenly unable to speak. Try as he might as answer wouldn’t come to him. Obeyrn smiled taking pity on him.

“The boy wants to learn. If he chooses to become a maester after he does that’s his right the same as anyone else.”

The maester sighed, his chain clinking as he stood. “Very well. I’ll go find someone to set up lodgings for him.”

The moment the man left the room Satin burst into a grin and hugged Oberyn tightly. “Thank you. I don’t know how to repay-“

“You don’t have to repay anything.” Oberyn smiled. He pulled out a small bag of coins and handed them to Satin. “Take these. Even novices have need of some coin.”

Oberyn raised his voice as he saw the maester returning with another novice. “And send a raven when you can. I’d always be happy to hear how your studies are going.”

The maester scowled. He had understood perfectly well Oberyn’s veiled threat.

“Come along boy.” The maester said. “We’ll show you your room.” Satin smiled and turned to leave.

Oberyn called after him as he left. “And if you any problems here just talk to Archmaester Marwyn. He’s an old friend mine.”

“I will my lord!” Satin called back. “Thank you again.”

Oberyn couldn’t help but smile as he watched the boy go. He wished him well in his studies. It made Oberyn happy to know that at least some good would come from Pycelle’s downfall. Without it Oberyn would never have been in a position to help this boy. He glanced down and saw an hourglass on the desk. Based on the sands it would be another hour before the Conclave reconvened for the day.

_I just hope they give me a Grand Maester I actually like…_

***

Cersei Lannister was furious. Clutching the raven scroll tight in her hand she marched up the steps to her father’s study. A lone guard stationed outside moved to stop her.

“I’m sorry my lady but your lord father has asked not to be disturbed-“

“Move.” Cersei demanded. “Now.”

Despite his protest the man folded easily enough. Cersei smirked. She was the Lioness of Casterly Rock. No common guard was going to command her. She shoved the double doors open and stormed into the room.

Her father was sitting behind his desk as she knew he would be. Reading some report or other. Cersei strolled boldly across the room and threw the scroll in front of her father’s face.

“How could you let this happen?” She demanded.

Tywin turned slowly from his reading and gave Cersei a stern glare, unfazed by her temper. “It seems I’ll need to have my guard reprimanded…”

“Those fool have chosen Maester Gorman. He’s uncle to that oaf from Highgarden.”

“I’m well aware of the Tyrell’s relations thank you.”

“First you let Pycelle be taken into custody our only friend in the capitol and now this-!” Cersei fumed. “It’s been eleven years since you let that disgusting viper execute your heir-my brother- and yet all you do is sit in this tower making frivolous plans. The Seven Kingdoms are laughing at us! They think we’re weak and you let them.”

“You may be my daughter but never presume to tell me what I think.” Tywin’s voice was cold steel. “We have other friends in the capitol-more than even the Prince could know about. Do you really think I would let the affront to our house by that bloody Martell stand?”

That quieted Cersei some. “Father I-“

“Did you think I had you marry the Greyjoy heir for any reason other than the good of the family? Patience my dear. I have been planning this a long time. Oberyn Martell may be impulsive at times but he is not a stupid man. If House Lannister is to win the wars to come we will do so with my “frivolous plans” as you called them. Starting…” Tywin paused and smiled. “ …with him. Isn’t that right boy?”

There was a rustle to Cersei’s right and she turned to see a young boy slipping in from the other room. The boy grinned.

“Of course Lord Tywin.”

Cersei studied the boy. He looked to be about twelve. He was very handsome wearing an ornate doublet with an emblem she didn’t recognize-painted in the Dornish fashion, rather than sewn. The boys had chestnut locks that fell in lovely curls to frame his face. But it was his eyes that caught Cersei’s attention. They were different colors. His right eye was violet, an old Valyrian feature, rare but not unheard of in certain parts of the worlds. But his left eye was another story. It was a cool slate grey that Cersei had only ever seen in one family line.

For what felt like the first time in years, Cersei Lannister smiled.

_The wars to come indeed…_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. So this chapter took way longer to write than I wanted it to. My early drafts just weren’t working the way I wanted them to so I finally decided to jump further ahead in time than I’d originally planned to. In the future I’m probably going to post updates more frequently and just keep each chapter shorter. 
> 
> A couple other quick notes:
> 
> -I envision Aegon and Dany’s dragon names being pronounced as “Elaine+knees” and “Ray+lin”. I tried coming up with something different for Jon’s dragon but I couldn’t think of anything I liked better than Rhaegal.  
> -As much as I love Ghost, all of his symbolism is indicative of Jon as a bastard or at least as an outsider from the other Stark children- being an albino, mute, and the runt. I still wanted Jon to have a wolf in this story but I felt it needed to reflect who he was here, hence why I went with the wolf symbolizing Lyanna and his northern roots.


End file.
